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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015962">Silence is golden</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybristophilica/pseuds/hybristophilica'>hybristophilica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Anxious Mirage, Blow Jobs, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Child Neglect, Childhood Friends, Choking, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Facials, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, First Meetings, Flashbacks, Flirting, Getting to Know Each Other, Holography, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Old Friends, One Night Stands, Piercings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Scars, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tags and rating to be updated, Trans Octane | Octavio Silva, Vaginal Fingering, Worldbuilding, brotp holohealer, headcanons, not the sexy way but also yes, octane face headcanon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:34:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybristophilica/pseuds/hybristophilica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He had chosen to be here this day. He had chosen that the Apex Legends Games would be the next step. He intended to make the best out of it, in one way or another. He had nothing to lose, and at the same time he had nothing significant to go back to. Maybe that was why, when he stepped in the Common Room crowded by the weirdest assortment of people he’d ever seen, his fingers tingled and his breath hitched. Yeah, maybe he was a little nervous, but hopeful.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bloodhound &amp; Mirage | Elliott Witt, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt, Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Octane | Octavio Silva, Lifeline | Ajay Che &amp; Mirage | Elliott Witt, Lifeline | Ajay Che &amp; Octane | Octavio Silva, Mirage | Elliott Witt &amp; Wraith | Renee Blasey, Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue - Where all the Legends live</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello dear apex folks! i didn't mean to make the prologue almost 5k but here it is and i regret nothing. i’m very excited about this fic and i look forward to wring the first chapter soon. i have a lot of plans for the characters but i’m not sure how i will realize them. i guess we’ll just have to wait and see, right?</p><p>btw, english is not my first language, so feel free to point out to me eventual grammar/verbal mistakes or misspellings so i can fix them</p><p>enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio woke up three hours before his alarm went off. Was it the excitement, was it the awful taste left by last night’s tequila in his now dry mouth, he didn't know. He reached out for his legs against the nightstand and quickly clicked them on, jumping off the bed. His thighs still felt a little bit wobbly, but that wouldn’t stop him from going out for a morning (pre-sunrise) jog to let out some of the excessive energy he felt bubbling inside of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Everyone, including maids and butlers, was still sleeping, so Octavio tried his best not to make the gate creak when he stepped out of the backyard. The streets were desert and he was free to run in the middle of them without the risk of a electric train running him over. He knew that from experience.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The air was chilly as it only was after a cold night, and wasn’t that the best weather for a three hours run? Yes. He surely couldn’t have stayed in bed without anything to do as he waited for his jet to land and finally take him away from Psamathe.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Headphones were on, the music was loud, and he sprinted away.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was back when the the sun started to rise. The gate of the mansion was unlocked and the black car that had been parked inside was gone. Good. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Buenos dìas Rosa!” Octavio shouted the moment he entered inside. The old maid appeared soon after on the balcony protruding from the inside of the second floor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good morning, Octavio,” Rosa replied with a gentle smile, walking carefully down the stairs to greet him. “I saw your bed empty and assumed you went out for a run, so I filled the tub up for you. I think you could use some time for yourself to relax. It’s a big day, after all.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Eh, you’re so right! Thanks!” Octavio grinned and ran upstair, stopping just a moment to plant a sweaty kiss on her cheek, then he reached his rooms and locked himself inside. The tub was filled for three quarters and already bubbled up with his cinnamon scented soap, so Octavio didn't hesitate to step in and dove till the water reached his nose. He would usually preferred to take a shower rather than wasting time to fill the tub, but he couldn’t refuse a bath if it had been Rosa to prepare it. The digital clock projecting the green numbers on the wall behind him informed him that he’d been out for two hours and a half, which meant he only had thirty minutes to dry, dress and get all of his luggage ready. Not that he had much to pack anyway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn't linger in the water like he wished. Despite its warmth and sweet scent, Octavio couldn’t stay still at the thought that the moment had finally come, and he would leave <em>soon</em>, so he rinsed swiftly and wrapped a towel around himself, hopping on one metallic heel to reach the dresser and grab the green crop top and shorts he decided to wear for the departure.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The biggest suitcase he could find would have to be enough to contain the rest of his clothes, his consoles, the cameras and the knives he intended to bring with him, a set of syringes here, an helmet there, and in the end he had to sit on it to close it properly. <em>Not that he had much to pack anyway </em>my ass. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Octavio! They’re here!” Rosa called from downstairs, and he felt his fingers tingle. Finally! </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He rolled his luggage out of the room and down the stairs, where Rosa was waiting for him with tears in her eyes. Aw man, not this. Octavio couldn’t call himself a particularly…affectionate dude, but for Rosa he made an exception. She knew what he was going to Solace for and she had been worried for him since she understood he wouldn’t come back any soon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Remember to call when you can. And d-don’t forget to check that all the filters for the blood are always clean and working. And promise me—“ </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio interrupted her with an hug before she could go on and succeed at making him cry. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lo prometo, lo prometo,” he assured with a small smile as he pulled away, patting her back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And be careful, kid,” Rosa concluded, wiping her tears. That Octavio really couldn’t promise. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll try,” he lied smoothly, stepping out of the house in the sunlight. He turned around and briefly glanced in direction of the stairs. “Is he already gone?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Rosa nodded. “He left less than an hour ago for a meeting.” Cool, no need for hypocrite goodbyes then. Octavio winked at the old woman inside, waving his hand.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll send you a postcard!” He shouted, then reached the rickety step ladder of the Hammond helicopter flying in front of the mansion.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio thought Hammond would send him something better than this, honestly. One expected that a multi billionaire company hosting blood sport games could afford some jet, some private flight, but, apparently, the best they had to offer to a new Legend was that, a shaky helicopter that trembled through the air streams. Octavio grabbed his phone and started a live streaming to keep himself entertained for the remaining two hours that separated him from the beginning of his new life.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn't know when he’d fallen asleep, or how, since the headrest almost gave him an headache when he woke up, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself flying over the sky of Solace. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Holy shit. </em>Despite having traveled several times to several planets in the last years, it was the first time Octavio visited this one on his own two legs. <em>Mental note: get out at night to explore as much as possible in the shortest time possible.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mister Silva, hold tight, we’re landing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The helicopter slowed down and started to lose altitude, until it fled above the biggest spaceship Octavio had ever seen. One of the flight assistants threw the ladder down and urged him to use it. “Get down there and look for a woman called Xanthya. She’ll show you around in the dropship. You’ll find your bags in you room when you’ll get there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio didn't need him to say anything else. With a little cry of enthusiasm he really couldn’t contain, he let himself fall down in a few feet fall and landed with a metallic thud over the top of the ship. <em>The</em> drop ship. Where all the fights started from. Where all the Legends lived.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You must be Silva.” A woman that couldn’t be older than him, with short black hair and dark complexion approached him with a knowing smirk and a pointed finger. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“In flesh and blood.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“More like in flesh and steel.” She nodded in direction of his legs, and he grinned. “I’m Xanthya, nice to meet you, rookie. Follow me, I don’t have much time.” Her voice was firm, but he caught a hint of amusement in the orange of her right metallic eye before she turned around and guided him along a rather long hallway. It was just large enough to let two medium sized persons walk along, and it spotted a window after every room they encountered. They stopped in front of the number nine. “You’re staying here. The door is unlocked. Remember to grab your Banner from the first drawer of the dresser once you’ll get inside, it works like a key for the rooms. There will also be instructions for tomorrow,” said Xanthya. “I’ll show you the Common Room now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Common Room was at the end of the hallway. It was a wide room with glass windows at two of the four walls and wide televisions on the other two, and a series of coffee tables, couches and armchairs in the middle. Very cozy, with a stereo in one corner Octavio instantly put his eyes on and an old looking, dark red carpet wide enough to cover almost the entirety of the floor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Behind that door you’ll find another shorter hallway that leads to the showers, since there isn’t any in the Legends’ rooms, and to the kitchen and the infirmary. In short, you guys have all the second floor at your disposal. The first one is kinda off limits except for the Respawn chamber and the Launch platform, ‘cause there are the engine room, the staff rooms, and a few offices down there. Nothing you have to worry about.” Xanthya started walking back then, probably already done with the tour. “Legends usually sleep on the drop ship, but you’re free not to if that’s what you want. The ship docks before sunset every night, and as long as you’re in here before 9 a.m. nobody gives a shit about what you do in your free time.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio couldn’t be more excited to hear that. The moment he heard the Legends would sleep in there he feared he wouldn’t be able to get out, or that there would be stricter rules about schedules and such, but it didn't seem all that bad, honestly. It sounded pretty fucking great. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“One last thing,” Xanthya stopped in front of the elevator and turned around to look at him. “Only the Legends sleep on the dropship. We, staff, common mortals, sleep in designated buildings on the ground when the ship docks. There are also a training ground for melee combat, a shooting range with a pretty good variety of weapons and a race track for whoever needs them. Thought you might want to know. They’ll explain the rest to you tomorrow morning anyway, probably.” She winked at him and turned to let the red light of the scanner outside the door examine the pad of her thumb. After a chirp of approval, the elevator let her in. Octavio stopped the door right before they closed and poked his head inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, wait, I haven’t asked who you are. You said staff, but what do you actually do, chica?” He was curious to know now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Xenthya grinned at him, and for the first time Octavio realized her teeth weren’t white, but a matter version of what seemed like silver. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll find out tomorrow morning, don’t worry.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He liked this one. “Cool! Thanks for the tour, anyway. See you around!” The doors of the elevator closed, and Octavio turned to leave. Okay, time to unpack. And with unpack, he meant emptying his entire suitcase in the dresser.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It turned out that the pilot of the helicopter was right, Octavio’s luggage was in his room already. The room wasn’t nearly as big as his own at the mansion, but he expected something worse after seeing the helicopter. There were a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, a closet and a small television in the main room, while the bathroom consisted of a toiled, a sink and a rectangular, absolutely lame mirror. It definitely wasn’t the best room he’d ever slept in, that much for sure, and in any other occasion he would have complained the moment he’d stepped inside to ask for a wider one. But this time, the room really wasn’t what he’d come here for. He wasn’t on holiday, he had no intention to take it easy and relax and waste even a second of his life on that sad looking bed, unless it was to, uh- bang someone on it, if given the chance. He was here to prove to the world, to his fans and to himself, that he would be the best killer in that goddamn arena real fucking soon. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Xanthya mentioned a training ground and a shooting range and Octavio had all the intention of making good use of them as soon as he was allowed. She’d been nice to mention the race track, but he feared a tiny little track wouldn’t do for him nor for his legs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was about to post some pictures of his new room when he remembered he actually had to check the Banner Xenthya mentioned. It was a object very similar to a telephone, a rather…old one, but it was lighter than it looked and easy to hold. When Octavio grabbed it, its screen lit up with a message.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>To: Octavio Silva</b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>Legend alias: Octane</b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>Number: 9</b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>From: Hammond Robotics</b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><b>Subject: Welcome!</b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>It is a pleasure to finally have you here with us, Mr. Silva, and we’re grateful once again that you chose to participate to the Apex Legends Games. We hope you will use the afternoon to make yourself comfortable in the spaces of the dropship reserved to you and the other Legends, since tomorrow morning you will be escorted on the ground for the mandatory Rules Recap, Basic Training and the Correct use of the Banner Course, so that, the next day, you will be able to take part to your first match.</b> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>You will find a list of the heads of the several Departments of the dropship in this dispositive and other staff members, please do not hesitate to use them if you ever feel the need. </b> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> <b>With the hope you’ll enjoy your stay and the games,</b> </span> <b></b></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>Hammond Robotics.</b> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio laughed out loud. What a massive amount of <em>bullshit</em>. He wondered if all the Legends had received a message like this one or it was an exclusive of all the newcomers. They could have simply let Xanthya, or anybody else in her place, explain those things to him today, so that he could already get in a match tomorrow already. Come on, he knew what the Apex games were like. He knew the rules in the arena, he knew how to handle a gun, and he surely didn't need training to fight. Did these Hammond-oh-so-formal-guys even know what he’d done before arriving here? It was almost insulting. Mah.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next morning, with much horror, Octavio discovered that his Banner was also set to work as an alarm. There were new instruction on it. Get dressed, go out and reach the Base on the ground. He didn't bother dressing nicely for the day, because they weren’t letting him participate in the games yet and so he wouldn’t need to live stream until tomorrow, but he <em>did</em> wear the mask. The one without respirators anyway, but with the same sharp-teeth design he so much loved. His brand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The hallway was silent and empty and Octavio guessed it was because the rest of the Legends hadn’t woken up yet for the match. The scanner of the elevator approved the code displayed on his Banner when he placed it in front of the red light, and then he stepped in. It looked like the elevator already knew where he was headed, because the door closed behind Octavio the moment he entered, and without him pressing any button. The ride was short and silent and almost felt like he wasn’t moving at all, which made Octavio think that Hammond <em>could</em> put their money to good use, if they wanted to. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he stepped out, he found himself in front of a dirt track that somehow jarred with the rest of the constructions surrounding the area. The buildings were made of iron and steel and other more shiny metals that reflected the first rays of the morning stars, and Octavio wondered if those were the training ground Xanthya had mentioned the day before.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Silva?” Someone called to his side and he turned around. He was pretty sure he had never seen the person running towards him before, but they were smiling at him like they were happy to see him. Their strawberry red hair was tied in a high bun, but what caught Octavio’s eye was the robotic left leg. Unlike his, the mechanics took the whole length of it and disappeared under the shorts.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hola?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other stopped in front of him and bent on their knees, panting slightly before straightening up again. “Woah, I’m <em>so</em> out of shape. Sorry about that. I’m Klyd. They sent me here to show you around and explain you about the Games and the Banner and all of that stuff I’m sure you’re dying to hear about.” They chuckled, hooking their arm under his and urging him to reach the first building in front of them. “Come on, first stop is the race track.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If Octavio had “<em>feared a tiny little track wouldn’t do for him nor for his legs</em>”, well, he was taking that back right now. Klyd had led him inside through a spinning door -his favorites- and then guided him to an elevator. He was already starting to get tired of these things by now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why would you need an elevator for? Aren’t we going to check the race track, pal?” He’d asked, and Klyd had smirked as if Octavio wasn’t the first person asking them that question.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hammond owns only a part of the area underneath the dropship docking spot and they won’t surely pay for more than they need, so they decided to use the ground <em>under</em> what they already have.” Right after they’d finished saying that, the doors of the elevator opened and Octavio found himself inside of the widest room he had ever imagined to see. It was hundreds of feet long, so long he could barely gaze upon the wall on the other side, and there were two rows of four columns each in the middle. It was completely empty, and the broad running tracks it provided were unused. There was even a series of abandoned obstacles in a corner, some dressers full of running shoes, and a stack of wooden rings that Octavio couldn’t understand the use of.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Most of the Legends don’t come here often except for some warm up, but Xanthya told me you might be interested.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio couldn’t help but grin behind the mask. “She was right.” He could really use this place to work out as he should, at least regarding the running part of his abilities. “What about the training ground and the shooting range? Are they underground too?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh no, no, they’re on the surface. They’re situated in two connected buildings you can easily access to with your Banner, but we can reach them from here as well. Follow me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd traversed the room and Octavio followed them promptly, realizing all over again how unbelievably huge the room was. When they reached the other side, the doors of the umpteenth elevator were waiting for them, open and ready to bring them back up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio had expected all the structures on the ground to be a bit like the dropship. All metallic, with very advanced technology and scanners and lights and elevators to move around, but when they were dropped off inside of what Klyd had announced to be the shooting range, Octavio was left gaping. There was a door in font of him, a real door to push and walk in, not a sliding metal panel, not a scanner. And inside of it was the most plain shooting range he’d ever seen. There was actually a good variety of guns to choose from, and several dummies and human-shaped cardboards with red circles drawn inside, but that was it. It all looked very simple, and Octavio found himself somehow not displeased. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While they were walking along the hallway that linked the shooting range to the next stop, the training ground, they met someone. No, not someone. Was it…? Yes! It was— “Wraith!” Octavio gasped, unable to help a finger into the Legend’s face. He couldn’t help it, she was standing right in front of him. She was a favorite of his, without a doubt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And you are?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“ ‘Morning, Renee. Here for a little pre-game warm up?” Klyd smiled at her when she nodded at them and then stopped to stare at Octavio with those light blue eyes of hers. “He’s Octavio Silva, the new Legend.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Wraith studied his face -Octavio was glad he’d decided to wear the mask- then she nodded in his direction with a hint of a smile. “I’ll see you in the ring tomorrow, then,” she mumbled before closing the door of the firing range behind her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd let out a sigh beside him and Octavio noticed how their cheeks had heated up. With a wobble of his eyebrow and a light hearted chuckle, Octavio hooked his arm under theirs, making them proceed to the training ground.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The training room consisted of a round unpaved arena wider than the shooting range, on the walls of which hung several types of melee weapons like swords, knives, axes, arrows and shields Octavio couldn’t wait to get his hands on. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You cannot take these with you in the arena, but you’re free to choose one already in your possession and use that, if you wish,” Klyd explained, grabbing a brown with leather handle sword and swinging it in the air, an excited glint in their eyes. Shortly after, the little door they just came from opened again, and Xenthya appeared.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“There you are! I’ve been waiting for you,” Xenthya said coming forward, staring right into Octavio’s eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Xenthya is in charge here, so she’ll be the one to take up your personal evaluation.” Klyd explained and took a few steps back right after, leaning against the wall. Only then did Octavio realize that she intended to “evaluate” him right there, in that moment. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He dodged the first punch out of reflex, widening his eyes at Xenthya. “Wait, chica, for real? We have to fight right now?” He asked urgently, taking a step to the side. Xenthya didn’t bother with a reply and attacked again, this time faking another punch Octavio totally fell for. She was on the floor before he could even realize it, and she wiped a leg under his steel heels, making him fall on his ass. Octavio registered the sound of Klyd’s gentle laughter, but he wouldn’t let it distract him. He jumped on his feet again, walking around his adversary in circle. Xenthya was grinning wildly, having too much fun for his own liking, and her orange eye emitted a dim glow. Octavio lunged forward, pushing her left shoulder with his right hand to make her lose balance, but it wasn’t enough to make her stumble down. She reached out to hold onto him, then used his own push to shove Octavio to the side. They both fell on the ground. Octavio sat on her hips, aiming a fist to her face she quickly blocked with the palm of her hand. She’d predicted the exact moment Octavio’s hand would have landed. Then Xanthya thrusted her hips up, roughly enough to make Octavio bounce off, and she was right on top of him with an elbow mercilessly pressed against his throat, cutting his breath off.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s not bad at all!” Klyd commented. Octavio wondered how losing in less than thirty seconds could be considered not bad at all. Xenthya pulled away and stood up, offering a hand Octavio gladly accepted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’re right, you know? You’re not bad at all,” Xenthya agreed with a wink. “Most people can’t stand on their feet for more than ten seconds, figure last more than another ten without me choking them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio cocked his head to the side with a chuckle, shrugging. “Didn't really give a show, but gracias.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They left Xenthya in the training ground. Klyd told him that she was the best fighter they’d ever known, and when Octavio asked them why she didn't become a Legend if she was so good, Kyle smirked. “It’s because of her eye,” but they didn’t explain further and guided him outside instead. The stars of the morning had risen and their light made the constructions around them look a little less sad than they had a few hours ago. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Now that the tour is finished, I fear I’ll have to pass to the boring part.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio cringed, playing with the string of his shorts. “Rules?” Klyd nodded, sitting on a wooden bench in the shadow cast by the one of the building. Octavio didn't sit. He looked to the side, where the dropship used to be that early morning, and where now only a black metallic tube that was the elevator was left. The Legends’s match had started.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s in the contract you signed when you were accepted as a participant,” Klyd said with a sorry expression. “So open your ears, my dear Mr. Silva.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You can call me Octavio,” he interrupted even if he hated it, hoping they wouldn’t mind. “Call me Octavio.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd didn't seem to mind the interruption and their expression remained as calm as ever. “Alright then, Octavio. The Rules of the games are pretty simple, actually. Do you already know about them? Or should I start from the basics?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio was already shaking his head. “No need to. Really, I know the rules, pal. Let me go already. Por favor?” He brought his hands together in a motion of desperate prayer, hoping they would allow him to go already. They’d already wasted the whole morning diddlying around. Okay, maybe it hadn’t been a waste, because both Xenthya and Kyle were badass as fuck and so where all the structures Hammond had put at his disposal, but his patience was running low.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd giggled and Octavio found himself like them even more every time they did that. “Alright, I guess I can skip the Rules Recap this time just for you. But I think you should hear how the Banner works. It can prove useful.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio wondered if that was true. He looked up at the tall metallic tube in the middle of that poor soil. The dropship would be back in the afternoon at least, he didn't really have anything better to do. Or maybe yes, but he didn't want to be a complete ass to Klyd. “How do the Banners work?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd reached their hand out and slide Octavio’s banner from one of the pockets of his shorts. They pressed one of the buttons on its side and the object buzzed. “The Banners are like keys. They open the doors of the Legends’ rooms, they open elevators and spaces like the training ground and all the others. Remember to always bring it with you when you move around.” So good so far, it wasn’t hard to remember, Octavio thought. Klyd went on. “Inside the games, instead, if you ever get killed, you’ll have to wait inside the Respawn chamber until your friends grab it from your body and use it to bring you back. The Respawn beacon will authorize your return then. If they don’t grab your banner in time, game over for you. Your Banner will be brought back to you after the game. Got it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio was hopping on his feet by then. He nodded frantically, just wanting to get away and go try all those beautiful knives in the training ground. “Got it, got it. Can I go now?” He hoped he didn't sound rude, because Klyd had been so nice to him so far, but he really really couldn’t stay there for another minute.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sure you can go,” they said instead. “And if you ever need me for any reason, you can text me. With your Banner, I mean. There’s a list of all the staff members in there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Awesome! And thanks for the tour, buddy. You’re cool as fuck,” Octavio couldn’t help but let them know, because it was true. He patted their shoulders with a grin they couldn’t see, and then he ran away, ready to spend the next four or five hours handling guns and knives.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When the dropship docked, Octavio didn't wait longer than he already had and let the elevator bring him back up. In the moment he stepped inside the dropship, he could tell he wasn’t the only one in the Legends quarters anymore. There were several voices coming from the rooms and the hallway and his feet started moving before he even ordered them to. He couldn’t exactly point out why that was, but he was <em>nervous</em>. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or…was it? This was the start of his new life. He had chosen to be here this day. He had chosen that the Apex Legends Games would be the next step. He intended to make the best out of it, in one way or another. He had nothing to lose, and at the same time he had nothing significant to go back to. Maybe that was why, when he stepped in the Common Room crowded by the weirdest assortment of people he’d ever seen, his fingers tingled and his breath hitched. Yeah, maybe he was a little nervous, but hopeful.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I came here to get a push</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Octavio sat up clumsily and pulled the knees agains his chest, sobbing quietly in the silence of the street. He didn't know where he was, and everything hurt so bad. </p><p>“Are you…alright?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: octavio is referred to as girl/she/miss in the flashback</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>—9 years old—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Octavio grabbed one of the toy cars from the shelf in his room and ran to the butler standing stiffly in front of the door, waving the objects under his nose. “Let’s play together! I’ll take the red car, you can have the one that’s blue!”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>It was early in the afternoon and that same butler that was currently keeping an eye on him had just brought him back from school and cooked him lunch. Yet, Octavio wasn’t feeling tired at all. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>He brought the set of tiny cars at the feet of the man, who spared him nothing more than an annoyed glance. “I cannot play with you right now, I’m working.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“But you’re not doing anything,” Octavio commented, not grieved by the first refusal. He started moving the cars back and forth between the butler’s legs, ignoring the way the small voluntary movements of the shoes made the cars roll over. “When will dad be home? Can he play with me if you can’t?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> <em>The butler sighed, not moving an inch from where he was. “I’m not sure. You know how busy you father is, Miss </em> </span> <span class="s1">[—]</span><span class="s1"><em>. I doubt he’ll be able to play.”</em> </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“But maybe this time will be different!”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>That time was in fact different, but not for the reason that Octavio expected. There was the sound of an engine shutting down, then steps belonging to more than one person. The door of the mansion opening and closing and a series of muffled voices coming from the lower floor. “Daddy is home! So early today!” The cars forgotten on the floor, Octavio ran out of his room, jumping on the handrail and riding it until he stumbled on the floor. A maid -the new one, he didn't remember the name- helped him get up and informed him that his father was home, yes, but was currently very busy in the living room and didn't want to be disturbed. Octavio imagined that everyone else, not him, was supposed to follow that order. He was his son after all! He couldn’t possibly disturb him.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Octavio pushed the double door of the living room open. His father was sitting at the polished table in the middle of the room, sipping from a triangle-shaped glass and smiling at a woman seated on the armchair on the other side. The woman was laughing, but it soon died in her throat when she noticed that they had company.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“And who’s this pretty girl?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1"> <em>As if he’s noticed him only then, Octavio’s father turned around and glared at him. “Ah, I’m deeply sorry. She’s my kid </em> </span> <span class="s1">[—]</span><span class="s1"><em>.” Octavio noticed that his father didn’t seem very happy to see him, even if it had been two -or three?- days since they’d seen each other. “</em> </span> <span class="s1">[—]</span><span class="s1"><em>, I thought I clearly requested not to be disturbed.” Yeah, definitely not happy.</em> </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The woman didn't seem angry instead, and she put her glass down, gliding to the edge of her seat to smile brightly at him. “Well, it’s not too bad she interrupted us. We could start to get to know each other, don’t you think, sweetheart?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Octavio cocked his head, which made his hair look messier than they were already. “Why would I want to know you, lady?”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>She chuckled lightly, cupping his chin with a gentleness that was foreign to him. “Oh, dearie, because I’m going to become your new step-mother! Didn’t your father tell you? I’m moving here soon, hopefully, and I’m sure we will become great friends.” She looked genuinely keen, but the news came without any kind of prevision or warning, and Octavio didn't feel nearly as happy as she looked. With a rude shove, he pushed the hand of the lady away and stepped back, pointing a finger in direction of his father. How could he do this to him without even mentioning it beforehand? Octavio didn't have many memories of his real mother, but he liked what he remembered well enough not to want another one. Nor he needed it.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“She’ll never be my mommy! I don’t want her here!” Octavio yelled, then he ran outside, followed by the echo of his father’s shouts and the gasp of the woman.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>No butler was quick enough to catch Octavio as he jumped and sprinted through the hallways of the mansion. With one smooth slide between the last maid’s legs, he managed to reach the handle of the entrance door and pull it open before they reached him. Then, he ran.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>He knew the streets of Olympus like he knew the pockets of his favorite shorts, and yet that day he got lost, because the tears pooling up in his eyes impeded him from seeing clearly which turn to take. But he couldn’t stop. If he stopped, then he would have to think about the lady, and his father, and his mother. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Octavio didn't stop running, not even when the tears fell, not even when the road started heading slightly downhill. Another three steps and he lost balance, stumbling on the laces of his shoes and falling onto the coarse concrete with a pained groan. The palms of his hands and his knees got scraped with tiny pieces of skin that teared and started to bleed. Octavio sat up clumsily and pulled the knees agains his chest, sobbing quietly in the silence of the street. He didn't know here he was, and everything hurt so bad. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Are you…alright?” A voice asked somewhere behind him. When he turned around, he couldn’t see anyone at first. Then, squinting his eyes to check more carefully, he noticed a girl standing behind one of the green bushes of the property on the other side of the road. She looked about his age and had dark curls and freckles on her cheekbones; she was holding a doll with one hand, carrying it along while she took a few steps in Octavio’s direction. “Are you alright?” She repeated, kneeling beside him. Octavio shrugged, wiping his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I fell down because I was running too fast,” he replied briefly, keeping his soft whines of discomfort in check in front of her. He even tried to stand up, but the small cuts on his knees hurt and he hissed, falling back onto his butt. The girl hesitated a little beside him, looking unsure about what to do, then she ran away, bringing the doll with her. She was back not much later, holding a bottle of disinfectant and a few bandages with her instead of the toy.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“You should be more careful when you run,” the girl scolded with a frown, and Octavio let her take his hands in her palms so she could clean the cuts and wrap them with the gauzes. It was the first time that someone that wasn’t a butler or a maid helped him patch up. “Why were you running anyway?” The girl asked.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“I was angry,” Octavio answered, feeling more calm than before. Watching her fingers clean the wounds on his knees and carefully stretching the bandages so that they wouldn’t shrivel distracted him from everything that happened that day, at least for now. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The girl didn't speak again until the second knee had been taken care of, and she gave it a soft pat while smiling with pride. “There you go, all done.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Octavio nodded, studying her face. She was pretty, gentle looking and speaking, so polite and delicate, everything his father and tutors wanted him to be. He was a little bit jealous she acted like that so naturally, while he was a disaster in everything. “Thank you,” he muttered softly, giving her a nod of his head. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The girl smiled and then reached out to touch a spiky lock of hair behind his ear. “What happened to your hair?” She asked it with a giggle, but it didn't look like she was making fun of him. More like she found it amusing.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Octavio smile a little bit despite himself, finally standing up and helping her do the same. “I’ve cut them myself. My butler didn't want to do it because my dad says girls should keep them long, but they always got in my face so I decided to cut them myself!” </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The girl giggled, then the honking of a car interrupted whatever she was about to say. They both turned around, and while Octavio didn't recognize the woman waving at them, it looked like the girl did. “I have to go,” she said, starting to run to the car awaiting for her. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Before she could disappear in it, Octavio called for her again. “Wait, you didn't tell me your name!”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The girl turned around and showed him one last smile. “I’m Ajay! Come play with me again some time!” And then she was gone.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">——</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Octavio arrived on the threshold of the Common Room, nobody seemed to notice him at first. There were a couple of Legends heading to the showers with towels and clean clothes in their arms, but the rest of them was just chilling. There were several voices overlapping each other and Octavio couldn’t catch a single word. He had been distracted by Wraith -one of the few Legends he could name- when someone pointed his presence out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look, there’s the new guy! Come inside bruddah, don’t just stay there!” A big tall laughing dude urged, and Octavio had never felt so small. Oh God, so many people were looking his way, and it was <em>so</em> different than being looked at by his fans. With them, he was confident that they would like, no, love, <em>adore</em>, whatever he had to show. But these people? He had no idea who they were and he felt like one of the cans often exposed in firing ranges, ready to be aimed at and destroyed.. The tall guy didn’t leave him much of choice though: soon after he grabbed Octavio from the back of his shirt, like a cat would a kitten, inviting him in the core of the crowd.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hola,” Octavio said lamely, trying to relax, because fuck, he’d faced much scarier people than this smiling giant. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You got a name?” A dark skinned woman then asked, staring at him up and down with a raised brow and a veeery judgmental smirk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m O—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Oh my god</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Someone else had spoken from the other small group of Legends in the room. Octavio and the others turned around to see who it was, and he couldn’t repress a loud gasp when he spotted her. “<em>Ajay</em>! Amiga, you’re a sight for sore eyes!” He chuckled, hopping on his feet to take the few steps that separated them. He couldn’t believe he let himself forget Ajay was here. She’d left months ago from Olympus to become a Legend, he now remembered, and found himself relieved to see a familiar face and also so fucking happy to see her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio reached her with open arms, grinning with excitement, but when he was close enough to pull her into a hug Ajay batted his arms away. She wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t smiling either. At all. The scowl on her face confused him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are ya doin’ here?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His confusion must have showed clearly enough, because she sighed and took the bridge of her nose between her fingers. Octavio decided to continue. “I’m participating to the games tomorrow, Ajay! An helicopter came to the mansion and brought me here yesterday and they showed me around this morning and everything is so cool, amiga, I never thought Hammond could—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You talk a lot, newbie, don’t you?” The same woman of before interrupted him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“His name is Octavio Silva, friend!” A skinny blue robot informed her. Octavio shifted his gaze from Ajay to the woman and the robot, then back to Ajay. She was shaking the head at him, with…with disappointment, almost. Octavio was confused and he couldn’t say why being looked at in that way by her felt so wrong, but it did. He was happy to see her again, why wasn’t she? After months of silence from her part, he’d expected something else. Or he had hoped it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>Why</em> are ya here?” Ajay asked, adding a fierceness in her words that had Octavio stop a moment to think about how he wanted to formulate his next thoughts out loud. The bad news was that she already knew what was about to come out of his mouth, and no lie could ever cover its truth. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I came here to get a push, hermana. After my last big show, the Apex Games were only the next step, right? The widest screen I can appear on,” Octavio answered truthfully. “What’s wrong with it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Get out of ma face, Silva,” said Ajay without even meeting his eyes over the hem of the mask. She put down the glass she’d been drinking from and left the room, followed soon after by Wraith. Octavio was dumbstruck. <em>Silva?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey man!” A heavy hand patted his shoulder, pulling him away from the spiral of confusion he was falling into. When he turned around, his eyes landed on the most gorgeous man he’d ever seen. Holy shit. “I’m Mirage, even if I’m sure you already know—” Octavio didn’t, “but you can call me Elliott.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Said Elliott smelled very clean and his dark curls were dripping water, so Octavio assumed he’d just come out of the showers on the other side of the hallway. He was standing way too close to Octavio and everything about him shouted confidence, from the posture to the charming smile and the friendly arm he promptly wrapped around him. Everything about him embodied Octavio’s ideal of the perfect man. <em>Dios mio, I wish I was like him</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m Octav— Octane. But you can call me Octavio, compadre,” Octavio replied. Elliott let him go and stepped right next to him. He looked gleeful, and when he patted his arm again Octavio smiled back. There was something about this guy that made him feel at ease, even if it didn't make any sense, because Octavio sucked with presentations and with hot people around him in general.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If you ever want tips, just give me a call. Or— come knock at my door? Number eight, pretty boy,” Elliott chimed while walking away, then stopped on the threshold and winked at him. “And welcome, new Legend.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio spent the rest of the night getting to know some of the Legends, chatting here and there but mostly listening, leaning names and aliases, but neither that nor the bight grin of that Elliott were enough to take his mind off Ajay and the short conversation they’d had earlier. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Honestly, he did not expect that. He knew Ajay was upset with him for some reason she didn't care to explain. He had known something was up, months ago, when after the accident that took his legs away she’d disappeared from his life. Out of the blue. No crumbs of bread for him to follow, no letters, no notes. When Octavio had tried to message her, he found out that she’d blocked him everywhere. No trace of her in the villa of her parents in Olympus, no trace of her at all. Octavio had known something must have gone wrong somewhere, something big and important, because the Ajay he knew would have never left like that without a good and valid reason. She wouldn’t have abandoned him like that. It was bugging him a lot more than he liked, and after another half hour spent in the Common Room trying to make himself comfortable around the Legends, Octavio decided to call it a night. Tomorrow was his big day after all, and even if he wasn’t a fan of sleeping, he could crash a few hours to improve his performance in the ring indeed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">While he made his way back to the room, Octavio accidentally bumped in someone. Someone very tall, again. At first, he thought it was Makoa, the laughing guy that had welcomed him in the Common Room, he’d learned. But it wasn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Watch your steps, lab rat.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio couldn’t believe the guy really said that. He stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned around to give the other the chance to take it back. The man he faced was significantly older than him, with some kind of scientific mask covering most of his face that yet couldn’t hide his frown. “Watch <em>your</em> steps, asshat!” Octavio replied, ready to go away, but a firm grip on his shoulder stopped him. <em>Mierda.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bold move for the newest arrival, Mister Silva. I suggest you watch not only your steps, but your mouth as well. You do not want to get on my bad side.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio didn’t grace that asshole with another second of his precious time and he roughly shrugged the hand away, huffing with exaggerated indignation. “And you do not want to get on mine, grandpa. So fuck off.” That being said, he locked himself inside of his room and removed the mask and the rest of his clothes to jump on the bed. There were quite a few things still running circles in his mind. The excitement for the forthcoming match, yes. Ajay’s words and unexpected behavior. The fact that he now had to take care of his own spaces because no maid would. All these background buzzes at the back of his head that that him roll from side to side of the bed restlessly. After one hour spent fidgeting on the bed, Octavio reached out for the box of pills and swallowed two of them dry. It was a matter of minutes before he was deep asleep.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The alarm of his Banner shook him awake. He had to fucking figure out how to turnt that thing off, because sooner or later it would give him an heart attack. The thought quick passed though, replied by energy at the realization that he was only minutes away from jumping into the arena for his first game. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd was waiting the Legends in front of the elevator and Octavio assumed it was only because it was he was new. They winked at him when they thought nobody was looking, and he couldn’t help but grin behind his mask. Klyd guided the group downstairs to the Launch platform, and while the other Legends adjusted their skins and waited for the teams to be announced, Klyd approached him with a content expression. “How’s it going, Octavio? Excited?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio had skipped the whole skin-picking part, because it was his first day and there was nothing he wanted to wear more than his usual old green outfit and the mask, which, this time, had respirators. He gave them a short nod, eyes shifting back and forth in the room as he waited to find out who his team mates would be. The screen lighted after and Octavio read though the list of names until he found his own.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">BLOODHOUND - OCTANE - GIBRALTAR</span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had no idea who those two were and decided to wait on the platform so they could find him instead. A sudden shove against his back that was supposed to be a friendly pat startled him, followed by a rumbling laughter. “Well well! Looks like it’s your lucky day, bruddah, you got matched up with me!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio beamed when he turned around and he recognized Makoa. “No, you’re the lucky one, amigo!” He replied with a giggle, then stopped when the announcement voice started counting the seconds down. The hatch underneath their feet opened and if it wasn’t for his other team mate -who had to be this Bloodhound, Octavio assumed- he would have fallen down already. Makoa, no, Gibraltar was jumpmaster and a few seconds later Octane was falling into the sky. His first match had started.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Seeing the map on a screen and founding himself running across it were two very different things, Octane soon found out. The looting was easy and yet frustrating, and he hated how much of a relevant factor luck was in the game. If he couldn’t find a decent weapon before his enemy and he got killed, then it wasn’t about skill anymore and that pissed him off, because he <em>was</em> skilled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Somebody traveled through here,” Bloodhound announced after some minutes. They were in what they called Pit, and Octane didn’t see anybody around. The loot was still there and there was no sound coming from any of the entrances.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you sure about that, pal?” He asked doubtfully. Gibraltar leaned a hand on his shoulder and made him stop walking. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Believe them when they say that, my friend. Nobody hunts enemies down like they do.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That shut Octane up. He walked beside his bigger team mate, watching around and noticing how Bloodhound decided to pick one path instead of the other to get out of the Pit. That was when he realized that he knew nothing about his team mates, or his enemies, and their abilities. Watching them shoot each other didn't teach that kind of thing. It was something Octane could only learn first hand, with experience.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They didn't encounter enemy teams until they ran inside one of the abandoned buildings in the desert, in front of the Bunker, and spotted another team in the house nearby. The ring was closing and despite Octane’s intention was to pass here and head to the Bunker, they would have to fight this team in order to do so. After half game spent running in circles and looting, he couldn’t wait anymore.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Going to raise hell over there, who’s with me?!” He asked, but didn’t wait for an answer anyway. He jumped out one of the window and grabbed a grenade from his belt, biting the ring of the safety lock off and spitting it to the ground. Then he threw the grenade inside of the other house, hearing it roll on the floor before exploding. He had hurt them, yes, but not enough. Bloodhound scanned the ground surrounding them, revealing four orange figures moving inside the house. Wait. Four? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Attacking here! Try to cover the other door and the window!” Octavio shouted at Gibraltar, running inside the house from the entrance on the right. Waiting in front of him he found Mirage, with a rifle pointed at his chest. Octane crouched to the ground and pulled the trigger first, managing to score a headshot. Or what would have been a headshot. Mirage’s figure dissipated in a glow of blue air, leaving him confused in front of the door. On the other side of the hallway, Octane could hear shooting and the sound of collisions and punches, then Gibraltar’s dome opened in the middle of the path that separated Octane from his team mates. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Behind you!” Bloodhound warned, but Octane didn't turn around in time to defend himself from the stock of an assault rifle getting shoved at his face. A crack that could only be his nose breaking was louder than the shotgun grumble when it shot at his side. A shout teared itself from Octane’s throat as he fell on the ground, pressing a gloved hand to his side. There was so much blood it made him wonder how his body could keep it all inside of him in normal conditions, but when someone grabbed his helmet and pulled it harshly up, he hissed and stumbled on his own legs, crawling on the floor.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Told ya ya should go back home, Silva.” Aw, shit, Ajay. She downed him in less than five seconds. So fucking good. “Did ya think ya could— ugh!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Someone shot again, but Octane’s vision was starting to darken and blur, making it impossible for him to clearly see what was going on. He just hoped his team wasn’t giving it easy to Ajay and her compadres. Octane was loosing too much blood and too quickly from that shotgun wound and he let himself fall against the wall, feeling his thighs grow numb. Ah, what a shame his first game had to end like this. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Lay low, I will assist you,” a voice grumbled and when Octane turned around he found himself facing Bloodhound. Their eyes were glowing <em>red</em>, like they were possessed by a demon, and it was one of the most intimidating things Octane had ever seen in the arena so far. He’d been lucky having them on his side for the first game.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bloodhound shoved a syringe in his chest and Octane flinched, gasping. Its effect was quick enough to let him stand on his feet once again, but he still felt like shit. “Woah. Imagine the scar this will leave on me,” he joked, pointing at the still bleeding wound at his side. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gibraltar laughed, dropping a few syringes of his so Octane could use them. “Worry not, bruddah. What happens in the arena stays in the arena. No matter how hurt you get in here, once they send you back to the ship, you’re brand new. Or well, not worse than you were when you came here. Ah ah!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octane’s eyes glimmered behind his goggles. Knowing himself, he had already accepted the fact that he’d never look the same again, because no mask or helmet could save him from his stunts, but if what Gibraltar was true, that the wounds they got themselves in the arena would get healed in the ship…then even better. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octane healed as quickly as he could, glad that in one way or another they made it in the top three. The ring was about to burn his ass, so he didn't hesitate to shove the green syringe into his neck and sprint forward, following Bloodhound as they proceeded in front of the grey wall of the Bunker. Their scan revealed several traps hidden behind the doors and scattered all across the hallway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Crap, what are those? They look no good.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They’re not,” Gibraltar confirmed, a worried frown darkening his expression for the first time since the beginning of the match. “I suggest we wait for the next ring to move before entering.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bloodhound remained silent but gave a nod, and Octavio hated it. Waiting for something to happen in order to get in action was something he really didn't plan on doing. How bored would his fans get if he waited like this every time he intended to do something even slightly dangerous? Exactly, a lot. That just wouldn’t do.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay amigos, you can stay here, I’m going in there!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Gibraltar moved forward to stop him, but Bloodhound didn't let him. Octane didn't know if they allowed him to go because the whole situation amused them or because they trusted his judgment, but it didn't matter. He extracted the jump pad and used it to bounce off the external wall of the bunker, landing in front of the doors. Shooting at the base of the first trap, he proceeded behind the corner.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No way.” Waiting for him stood the same man he’d bumped against the previous night. The prick that threatened him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We meet again, Silva.” <em>Caustic. His name is Caustic, </em>a tiny voice at the back of his head suggested.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octane swallowed, taking another step forward and aiming at the man’s chest and trying to jump out of his line of sight. While he was distracted dodging the scientist’s shots, though, he accidentally set one of the traps off, and that was the beginning of the end, because Caustic took the chance to set off the grenade he had in his hand as well. Instead of setting Octane on fire, the object released a yellow gas. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There were no words to describe what it felt like. Every breath of air Octane greedily tried to gulp down burnt his insides. He couldn’t breathe and no matter how he tried to clench at his top pull it off, the tightness in his chest didn't ease. Something started dripping down his face as he fell on the floor, and when he pulled the mask and the goggles away, Octane found out he was crying blood from his eyes, and from his nose too. He wasn’t surprised that, when he coughed, desperately trying to breath <em>air</em>, he spat blood. He couldn’t hold back a cry of agony when the gas started burning inside of him, spreading through his lungs and corrupting them with its toxicity. It was diabolical. Octane fell on the floor of the Bunker, watching as a pair of boots came closer to his face. One fist punched his face one time, two, three. Then everything was black. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio woke up with a loud gasp, bringing his hands to his face and chest. Lungs working, five fingers per hand, nose not broken. He was—fine. Breathing. He exited the glass cabin he’d spawned in, looking around. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well well, hi. No, <em>hola</em>.” Octavio turned to the right, where Klyd was leaned against the wall. “Feeling alright?” They straightened up and walked a circle around him, raising his arm to check his side. “That shotgun wound was really the best way to start your game off, wasn’t it?” They teased, pocking Octane’s hip with a chuckle. “I was cheering for you, you know, until you decided to walk inside of the Bunker with Caustic boarded up inside. What a dumbass, Octavio.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had…died, yes. This was the Respawn chamber, he assumed. And Klyd’s way of insulting him was too polite and gentle to really be mad, so Octavio could only join them in their laugh. “It was <em>sick</em>! I have no idea about what happened after I died though— wait, is the game still going?! Can they bring me back?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd was already shaking their head while he finished talking. “The game is over. Look.” They brought him in front of the screen covering one of the short walls of the room. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“WE WON?!” Octavio yelled, then cleared his throat. “We won?! How’s that possible?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Klyd shrugged, smirking. They guided him to the elevator. “Your team mates were smart enough to wait until Caustic’s gas dissipated, and they got lucky that Mirage was the only one left of the other team and he fought Caustic on his own.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Awesome!” Octavio couldn’t believe it. He’d won his first match. Yes, technically Bloodhound and Gibraltar had won it while he was dead, but it still counted as a success in his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Go celebrate the first win, then,” Klyd said before the sound of the sliding door of the elevator could cover their voice. Octavio waved his hand, leaning against the panel of metal behind him. He felt good. He felt amazingly good. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other Legends were already settling up on the couches in the Common Room when Octavio appeared, and several heads turned to glance at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Look who’s there, our champion, kissed by luck,” Caustic sneered, not sparing him another look as he filled the mug in his hand and walked away. Before Octavio could shout at him to go fuck himself, Gibraltar’s hand ruffled his hair. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good game out there! Even if I gotta admit, it wasn’t fun watching you die like that,” the man confessed letting go of him. “But Bloodhound thought you had to learn which fights to pick and which not…and I guess they’re right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bloodhound, on the other side of the room, shrugged noncommittally and nodded in his direction only, but then they gave him a thumb up, and Octavio felt on cloud nine. Yes, yes, yes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It’s not like he needed their approval, or Makoa’s, or anybody’s really, but knowing that despite his mistakes, things could go right <em>also</em> thanks to him felt pretty great, actually. Octavio had never been more sure about taking part in something in his life as he was with the Apex Games right now. He was made for this. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Here to celebrate, kid?” An arm wrapped itself around Octavio’s neck and this time, when he tuned to see who it was, he was so not surprised to find a smirking Elliott by his side. “Man, you got <em>so</em> lucky Caustic decided to finish me instead of your friends. I could have won it!” He complained, not letting go of him yet. Octavio was the one to do it then. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mirag— argh, Elliott, amigo. You have to explain me how the hell you survived an headshot of Triple take like that. You were supposed to be dead! Muerto! Your brains should have been splattered all over the wall! I <em>saw</em> the bullet pass through your head?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott chuckled, which made him look even more handsome than before, if that was possible, and he leaned his hand over Octavio’s shoulder, leaning close to his face, as if he was about to reveal to him the secret of the universe. “It’s my speciality, you know. I can’t tell you all the details because it would be too complicated, and a mind like mine is—“</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He uses a set of holograms,” Wraith commented flatly behind them, making Elliott flinch. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wraith! How dare you out me like that!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Holograms?” Octavio asked with a tilt of his head, trying to imagine how that was possible. He’d seen Mirage, or what he assumed was him. It was very, very human-like, not only in the appearance. It moved, it aimed at Octavio when he’d entered in the house.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, holograms,” Elliott confirmed with a wink. “But I’m not explaining shit to you, pretty boy. You wanna know Mirage’s secrets? Better spill some of yours first.” The smirk Elliott teased him with had Octavio gape at him for a few seconds before he laughed, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hell nah, compadre. I’ll find out how that little trick of yours works on my own, you’ll see.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I’d like to see you try,” Elliott replied, but then Wraith gestured him to follow her away with urgency. “Maybe in tomorrow’s game. And hey. Maybe we’ll get matched up together, pretty boy.” With a last wink and another pull from Wraith, Elliott disappeared in the hallway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio walked to one of the tables laden with beverages and warm dishes, probably something the staff remembers had to take care of while the Legends were in the arena, and filled his glass up with what he hoped was wine. A sip revealed him it was cola. Too bad.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ya sucked ass today.” Ajay.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not hearing that from someone that shot me from behind, hermana,” he replied, turning around to face her. She was holding a plate with a slice of cake on it, a dirty fork in the other, and she sounded forced whens he spoke, as if it caused her pain to talk to him, but at least she <em>did</em> talk to him, and that was something.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ya still sucked. What was that action in the Bunker? Ya basically went there to die. On purpose.” She rolled her eyes, shoving another piece of cake in her mouth and staring at him in the wait of an explanation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio laughed, adjusting the mask above his nose. “And what else is new, chica.” For some reason, the almost relaxed expression Ajay had disappeared, set off by his words. She swallowed and when he looked into her eyes, Octavio couldn’t believe there was…sadness in her brown ones. He opened his mouth again to ask, but Ajay rose an open palm in the air, stopping him. Then she walked away from the Common Room, leaving Octavio to wonder how well she must have known him to prevent his words even without seeing his mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Most Legends had already gone to sleep before midnight, but Octavio’d lingered with the bunch that resisted the call of slumber to favor some light hearted chit chat. Elliott had come back and Bloodhound had never left, so Octavio lulled himself in their company. It turned out that Bloodhound talked quite a lot when there weren’t many people around, and Octavio found himself laugh his ass off at several as hilarious as unexpected jokes they made at Elliott’s expense. Elliott, the same Elliott that was a sex-walking-god, who stammered every time he was nervous or flustered and blamed his dyslexia for it. If somebody ever told Octavio, he would have never believed them. But here he was, hearing him with his own two ears. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Spending the evening sprawled on the couch like that with the two Legends made Octavio relax for some reason. Talking to Elliott, and not Mirage, and hanging out with Bloodhound when their eyes didn't glow red and were only masked like Octavio’s were in the arena, it made him feel at ease. Getting to know the people behind the Legends made him at ease, and it reassured him that there was plenty of room for Octavio, and not only Octane, on that dropship.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i only have some plot points planned and many ideas just come and go while i write them down, but i’m so happy so far</p><p>writing octane is not as easily as i wished tho, and sometimes i fear I’m going out of character but idk, i’m just rolling with some of my headcanons of him and his past and trying to build up his character in a realistic way</p><p>also, since respawn is a coward and hasn’t given me his redemption with lifeline, i’m going to have to do it myself</p><p> </p><p>i have a <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hybristophilica">tumblr</a> but i’m a bit more active on <a href="https://twitter.com/hybristophilica">twitter</a> ! come shout at me about apex, because i’m lonely and have no apex friends</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A little push it’s all it takes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Silva rested against the wall as he clung to the bottle until nothing but a few drops. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve and then moved the hand that was on Elliott’s chest up to his neck. Elliott flinches like it burned and he pulled away, looking around to check if somebody had noticed them."</p><p>or, mr silva's A+ parenting, winning games, losing games, flirting, and a pierced tongue</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*pretends kings canyon is still the one of season 1*<br/>also, i’m not paying attention to which weapons are which in what season.  pk and mastiff are both in the game and so are all the others etc. also, wraith knows about her past self, so i’m using renee to call her already; smut at the end of the chapter</p><p>note: tags have been updated, be mindful reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>—12 years old—</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“And so I told him, ‘</em>No chico, I don’t think so!’ <em>and it was only then that I pushed him away. It’s not my fall he fell on his butt!” Octavio animately told the story of his first brawl at school at the poor butler in charge to pick him up from school, mimicking with his taped fingers all the movements he’d played at the expense of the bully. “And when he stood up again he tried to hit me in the face but he was sooo slow! And I managed to slip away and hit him. It’s unfair that the teacher scolded me but not him, don’t you think so too?” </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The butler hummed, keeping his eyes on the road. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Yes, that’s what I thought. I wonder if dad will get angry,” Octavio mumbled, leaning his chin on the palm, watching the streets of Olympus run fas before his eyes behind the windshield. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d get grounded for something like that, but Octavio noticed that lately his father didn't seem to mind much how he behaved at school. Even if his grades were dropping with the weeks passing, Octavio hadn’t been grounded in months, so maybe he could escape it this time too.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>When Leandro parked, Octavio jumped off and ran inside, throwing his backpack somewhere in the middle of the hallway. He changed into his clothes and shoved the uniform in the dresser before heading downstairs. There was smell of tomato sauce and spices, so he rushed to the living room, where he found that the table had been set for three instead than for one. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Leandro? Why are there three plates on the table? Is daddy coming home for lunch?” Octavio inquired, playing with a silver spoon and bouncing his leg up and down. The butler appeared soon after, carrying a tray with the first course but leaving its lid on. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Yes, he informed me this early morning that he could be coming back with his—“</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Leandro, we’re here!” Octavio tensed on the chair at the sound of his father’s voice. He appeared on the threshold of the living room, accompanied by a woman that made Octavio understand who the third plate was for. “I’m going to get changed real quick, make sure to keep the food warm for us.” </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>The butler had to slap Octavio’s hands away from the tray two times in the wait, and when his father came finally in, he and the other sat in front of each other, right at Octavio’s side. The food was uncovered and served, and the first half of the mean was relatively silent. Leandro came and went, carrying trays of food and bottles of wine. Octavio’s leg was still bouncing off the chair, an easy way to relief the nervousness, but he was starting to gather the courage to tell his father about what happened. He swallowed his bite of bread and turned to the side to face his father, who didn't do the same.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“Hey, papà? Today I…</em>accidentally<em> hit a boy at school and the teacher got mad at me, but I promise it wasn’t so b—“</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Leandro, has that been taken care of?” His father interrupted, turning to look at the butler, not him.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Leandro nodded reassuringly. “I personally talked to the teacher.”</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Good. Then there’s no need to talk about it. I have more important things to do with Miss Fraymont,” his father cut short, wiping his mouth with the napkin on his thighs. He and the woman soon left the room to retire in the studio, Octavio assumed.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>He finished his dessert quietly under the unwavering gaze of the butler. He should have felt relieved that his father didn’t get mad. Really. He couldn’t have handled being grounded, but, honestly…he didn't expect to be dismissed that quickly. It was true that his father was busy, and Octavio didn't doubt that there were way important matter to take care of instead of him, but if he was honest, he would have liked his father to stay a little longer, at least until the end of the lunch. Just a little bit more with him. But work was work, and Octavio understood it. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>It was about three hours later, after almost burning himself with the lighter he stole from a maid while trying to burn the plastic hair of his dolls, that Octavio grew bored of that too. He left his room and ventured in the hallways. He wanted to see him father again before he left for another work trip, but he also wanted to take a picture of the woman he came home with, because he’d promised Ajay. It had been when, after the third woman that his father presented to him a few months ago, Ajay started to think he was lying to her about the presence of all this women. As if he could lie to her! So he’d promised he would take a pic of the next one that would arrive. Because a new one would always arrive, sooner or later. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Octavio reached the office, finding the door half open. There wasn’t anyone inside, but there was the sound of water running coming from the small bathroom linked to the room. Octavio crouched down and hid behind the desk, shielding himself behind the monumental chair with padded pillows and waited, cellphone ready at hand. The water in the bathroom stopped, but in that same moment, his father entered the studio again. Octavio’s heart skipped a beat. He thought </em>he<em> was in the bathroom. Ow shit.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>His father wasn’t wearing his jacket or necktie anymore, and when he walked behind the desk to sit, it only took him a second to notice Octavio. His eyes widened and he looked quickly at the door of the bathroom, alarmed. Then a hand grabbed Octavio by the back of his shirt and pulled him roughly out of his hiding spot.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>“Wait, father, I can explain! I dropped my phone and I thought—“</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>His father cut him up with another fierce shake and pushed him out of the studio. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>“I don’t know what you thought you were doing, nor do I want to hear a word from you. I have explained it countless times to you, that I absolutely will not tolerate you invading my private spaces, so it better not happen again!” His father hissed, still not letting go of Octavio’s shoulder. </em>Now <em>he was angry. And he had spoken to him longer than in the last entire week.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Octavio didn't want to fight, though, so he only nodded, not meeting his father’ gaze, hoping his silence would please him. It did, apparently. The grip on his shoulder loosened and slowly pulled away, then his father retired back into the room. He slammed the door shut, so loudly that Octavio flinched in surprise, but he didn't feel too bad. Even if it hadn’t been his intentions, Octavio had obtained a reaction out of his father, at least. That was something, even if he didn't have any picture to show Ajay. He stared at the wooden door in front of him, feeling strangely empty. Or lonely. If there was a difference. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1"> <em>——</em> </span>
</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octane was born for this. Killing came easy as breathing. Nobody could stop him, he was unpredictable and flew with the wind, or faster than that. There were no words to describe the thrill he felt every time he pulled the trigger and watched the bullet shot to the mark in slow motion, because his mind raced ten times faster. The stim…<em>Dios bueno</em>, a stroke of genius, if he could say so himself. Its formula had been his idea, and, thanks to his acquaintances in the Silva Pharmaceuticals labs, that idea soon became a reality. It worked so fucking well, way better than he could have hoped or expected.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was the king of the arena, a worthy champion of it, or at least that’s what Octane felt like, running up and down the dry hills of the desert behind Skull Town. The jump pad he’d previously left behind at the feet of the giant skeleton proved to be useful now that he had a whole team chasing him. He could heard Bloodhound’s grunts as they tried to keep up behind him, but their Allfather’s blessing couldn’t help them, because even like that they weren’t fast enough. Octane was <em>faster</em>. He would have liked to take them three against one, but he’d already made Mirage lose their last two games in the previous days, and he owed him one good, well thought play, for once.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Octane! You’re going to get us both killed! Don’t guide them to me! Don’t-guide-them-to-me! I’m in a adavant…adveng…a beneficial position!” Mirage’s voice complained in the speaker, and Octane laughed. It was only the two of them, because Pathfinder had been trapped in the Bunker by Caustic right after the landing, and, uh, they hadn’t even tried to take his banner, <em>lo siento, poor can baby</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Don’t worry compadre!” Bangalore’s shoots crowned his head like a halo, but Octane barely registered the low hit as he shoved another syringe into his thigh, sprinting forward. The distance between him and the other team was getting wider, and soon after he couldn’t hear their steps anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mirage was hiding in one of the houses of Skull Town’s outskirts, boarded up inside, and Octane took less than ten seconds to reach him. Mirage was waiting him with his arms crossed at the chest and he tapped his foot frantically on the floor, clearly pissed. <em>He looks good even when he’s pissed. Why. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio huffed a laugh, just to make him understand that he wasn’t intimidated by him in the least, if that was the intention.“What?” He challenged. The effect of the stim cooling off made his head feel lighter and he caught his breath, noticing with relief that Mirage’s health and shield battery was undamaged, and they were ready to start moving again for the next ring location.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll tell you what, little shit,” Mirage frowned with a glare, then started rummaging thought his backpack for something. “I haven’t won a single game, this week and I have a bet going on with Bloodhound, so you better <em>behave</em> and listen to me for once! I wanna win this!” He explained, but his tone wasn’t hard, more like…patronizing, which was almost worse. Mirage walked past him, shoving a couple of shield cells against is chest. Octane barely caught them, cocking his head to the side questioningly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mirage rolled his eyes. “You’re bleeding from the head. Dumbass.” Octane saw a hint of smile on his lips, and he gladly accepted the shields. “Next ring is far, let’s get a move.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And so they ventured across the map, running into only another team. Ajay’s team. No, <em>mierda, </em>Lifeline’s team. Wraith and Gibraltar were with her, and Octane and Mirage managed to win the fight only because Mirage used the decoys to distract all three of them. They looked so dumb, shooting here and there and melting the decoys into blue light while Octane took them down one by one. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That was a good fight,” Mirage panted, patching up quickly as the ring started burning their hells. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, now let’s go win this.” Octane launched the jump pad and they managed to get in the safe zone before the damage of the burn were irreparable. They took cover behind a rock, Octane’s shields were shredded, his health level a mere notch, and Mirage’s was no better. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Four squads were left. Still four squads left? Boring. “Let’s go find them and finish this,” Octane decided, exiting their shelter while the shield battery he was using was still sparking. Three steps on the grass, and a grenade slid on the ground, right beside him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh mierda— ugh!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">BOOM!</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mirage had pulled him away just in time, actually saving him from becoming a box of loot, and he pushed Octane against another rock, pressing himself against his chest. One of his hands impeded Octane to talk, while the other mimicked a <em>Shhh!</em> gesture with the index.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octane didn't move, still high on the adrenaline the granite pumped into him. He could always count on those little balls of explosive to make him feel on cloud nine. When he looked at the direction Mirage was glancing at, Octane realized the plan. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The grenade thrown by someone had caught the attention of the another team. They were already starting to poke at each other with probationary shots, which meant that they would soon start shooting for real. In the river on their right, the last rat. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“If we play our cards right, we can win easily. And believe me, I’m a pro at playing card tricks. Let’s wait for them to fight and then we can take care of the loner,” Mirage muttered with amusement but determination, looking convinced of the plan. Octavio wasn’t. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah yeah, amigo. Tricks this and tricks that, but maybe you should start shooting to people to actually win. Never thought of that?” He was being a cocky shit and he knew, but it was just <em>so</em> fun to get a rise out of Mirage, especially in tense moments like this, when he tried to focus and concentrate on what do to. Octane’s job here was to distract him, yes, sì. “Maybe I should teach you how to kill with out own hands <em>only</em>, compadre. That might be the real trick, who knows?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mirage could be dumb, but he wasn’t stupid, and he understood what game Octane was playing at. He smirked and tipped Octane’s chin up and <em>God, that’s so fucking hot. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh yeah? And are you gonna teach me that, pretty boy? Your tricks?” Mirage asked, his grin widening on his face. Octane realized that they were still pressed against each other. Only because the rock behind his back was starting to hurt, and not because the warmth coming off Mirage’s body was impossible to ignore, no no. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octane swallowed, his legs starting to throw tiny kicks every now and then. There were quite a few thoughts running through his head right then, and none of them should be said live streaming in front of thousands of fans, but he couldn’t bite his tongue, not when Mirage was looking at him like this, still gripping him firmly. Octane held his breath, grabbing Mirage by the collar of his suit, and pulled him. He stopped once he was close to his mouth, with Mirage’s lips brushing against the fabric of the mask. “There are quite a few tricks I could teach you actually, hermoso. But now I’m running out of time.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That being said, leaving a gaping, dumbstruck Mirage there, Octane extracted the bright green syringe and stuck it in his neck. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Fuck yes. That’s what I’m talking about.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Before he could be stopped, he jumped and rolled back-first on the rock behind him and sprinted in the river, aiming his mastiff at the solo hiding underneath the long leaves of a plant. He half missed the first shot, but the second one hit Caustic right in the chest. <em>Ah, take that, comfartre. For Path!</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Octane! Could use some help here!” Mirage’s voice rumbled in the speakers. When Octane turned around, he found his team mate downed, but at the feet of three death boxes. What a joke! He’d managed to clean the third team up and got knocked by the last one remaining. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m coming! What would you do without me, amigo!?” Octane sprinted in his direction, but he calculated that he couldn’t help him. The last two enemy standing were approaching him. He threw an arc star and ran in the opposite direction. Just like he planned, the explosion broke someone’s shield and slowed them down enough to let him take care of the other. A shot of mastiff well aimed, a few bullets of R-99 and they were downed. Which brought him to the last one. Where were they?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Careful! On your right, Octane!” Mirage warned him, repeatedly pinging the enemy’s position. Thanks to that, Octane spotted the target and fired mercilessly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“<em>We have our Apex champions.”</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octane was catching his breath when two strong arms wrapped around his neck from behind, making him stumble forward. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My friend, you were a-ma-zing! For real! I have no idea how you managed not to die, but hey! Good job,” Mirage laughed next to him, rubbing his knuckles against Octane’s helmet, which was stupid because he really couldn’t feel it, but it made him laugh nonetheless.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know I was, compadre! Did you see how well timed that arc star was?! Increíble!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They didn't have time to celebrate though, because they were led to the top of the usual Champion hill for the final shot to stream at home. That being done, they were brought back on the drop ship.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">——</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott was distracted. After being sent back on the ship, he’d showered quickly, much more quick than usual. The only reason was that he didn’t want to meet Silva there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It had been going on for less than a week probably, this teasing, half flirting between the two of them, but he still couldn’t understand where it would lead to. From his part, he liked Silva. He had no problem admitting that. Silva was an okay guy, a little bit light headed at times, but who shouldn’t rightfully be? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott was comfortable around him and he always enjoyed the nights they spent together on the couch of the Common Room until it was late and all the other Legends had already gone to sleep. Just like him, Silva seemed to have trouble sleeping. Elliott appreciated his company a lot in and out of the arena. They fought well together, they fit well together, it was true.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the last days, it was clear that Elliott wasn’t the only one to sense that chemistry. It had been Silva to start it. For real! Okay, maybe Elliott had been the one giving him <em>the</em> <em>look</em> the first time, but Silva had reciprocated it. Not only that, he would also touch Elliott casually, with his hands always, always lingering that second too long to make Elliott wonder what was really behind the gesture. Elliott had then decided to tempt his fate, because fuck it, right? He had nothing to lose, and that day in the arena, when he’d…pressed himself all over him with the excuse to save his ass. The plan was that at first, but when Silva hadn’t pulled away Elliott had maned up and stood his stance there. And boy, was it worth it. The teasing words Silva had taunted him with still ringed in his head, making him…overthink things. Just a little bit. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A knock on the door pulled him back to the present. Fuck, he was still wearing only a towel around his hips and dinner was probably ready. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Who is it?” He asked, bouncing on one foot as he slid the first leg of his sweatpants on.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Just me. May I come in?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah sure, Hound. Eight, command: open!” The voice recognition system he’d installed in the room himself unlocked the door, revealing a casually dressed Bloodhound. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I saw you were delaying your arrival for supper and I thought I would check on you. Is everything alright, vinur?”Hound asked, looking at him through the red transparent lenses of their goggles. Mirage sighed, quickly pulling a hoodie on and patting their back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, mate. Thanks for coming though.” He didn't want to bother them with his useless, childish doubts. He could only imagine their face -no, not really- when he’d ask them <em>Would it be bad to screw the new guy that arrived here less than a month ago? No? Just a little? Because I really want to, and I also think he’s into it.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Luckily for him, Silva wasn’t at dinner. The few tables on the other side of the Common Room were occupied by Renee and Makoa, so the two of them joined them and started eating. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Good game today, bruddah! That little guy really saved your ass, ah ah ah!” Makoa patted his back with a benevolent smile that made Elliott pout.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re making it sound as if I didn’t do anything! I downed two of the other team while he was busy killing the lonely one!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For once, woah, Renee backed him up. “That’s kinda true. You could have been a little bit more subtle with the last decoy I think, but you did a good job. And so did Octane.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mirage wanted to tear up, Renee had just complimented him! “T<em>hank you! </em>Did you hear, Gibby? I did good!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other only replied with another chuckle, chucking down his glass of rum. “By the way, where’s that tiny guy?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott thanked Hound’s gods that he hadn’t been the one having to ask that question, and he pretended to fiddle with the vegetables in his plate. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I saw him leave the room earlier with Che,” Renee said. “She didn’t look happy about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why not?” Elliott then probed. Bloodhound was still silent beside him, eating quietly with their mask half raised.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I don’t know. It’s not like I asked her,” Renee continued, leaning her cheek against the back of her hand. “I think there’s some bad blood in there. From what I heard, they knew each other before the games but…something must have happened, because she doesn’t really want to be around him more than she has to, while he looks like a beaten dog trying to get her attention. It’s a little pathetic to witness, honestly.” She then rose her head, looking at the three of them. “Oh God, don’t tell her I told you this. I don’t think she wants us to know.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott zipped his lips shut and nodded. He wondered if what Renee said was true. But! It was non of his business, so he tried not to think about it while he made his way back to the room, wanting to just sleep off this confusion. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was very unfortunate that, while he fumbled with the Banner at his belt, Silva arrived from behind him with wet hair and a damp shirt. Elliott’s room beeped open, the door slid soothly, but he didn't move from where he was, peeking over his shoulder. Silva had stopped, rubbing a towel against his neck, right under the mask. Did he shower in that thing?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Already calling it a day, compadre? Thought you wanted to celebrate today’s win?” He had that sarcastic glint in his eyes that Elliott really couldn’t resist, but right now really wasn’t the right moment for this. Still, he couldn’t let Silva think he wasn’t completely uninterested, because, <em>fuck</em>, he was. Just not right now. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah, I did, but I didn't see you at dinner and I don’t know, just thought it was better to posonp…posso… to choose some other day for it. I wanna bring booze,” he joked, taking a step inside of his room. Silva hadn’t moved yet and behind that damned mask Elliott couldn’t understand his expression. In the end, he leaned forward, leaning against the doorjamb with his elbow above his head. Still, Elliott was taller than him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Alright amigo, but if you’ll make me wait any more than one day I’m going to die from boredom,” he drawled, pulling away and giving Elliot a very much convincing look. <em>Message received, ultimatum in one day, got it, yes. </em>“If you ever change your mind, my room is right next to yours.” And with that, he hopped away on this funny legs. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott slammed the doors shut and let out a long, agitated sigh. Oh boy, what was he getting into? </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next morning, he was happy to find out he and Octane weren’t in the same squad. It’s not like he didn't want him as a team mate, but it was easier to shoot at his pretty face than to admit to himself the things he wanted to do to it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He got Bloodhound and Caustic with him and they run in the Canyon, armed to the teeth, hunting their enemies down. They arrived in front of the Artillery and Bloodhound’s scan revealed a full team scattered in the buildings. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Caustics started setting up traps here and there, while Bloodhound took place on top of the facility, their watchful eyes ready to strike. Mirage decided to part from them, because if he wanted to make the other team see his decoys he needed to get a better angle.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He scooted silently to the tunnel on one side, being careful not to make any noise. Then he pointed his finger gun in direction of the taller building, and waited. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A single shot cut the silence of the air, and his decoy exploded into blue bubbles. Mirage smirked, lifting his eyes to the edge of the palace, where a hooded figure he couldn’t recognize was still standing. He sent another decoy, but before he could assist to its fate, a hand pressed against his mouth from behind. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Like the world had exploded in that moment, in his speaker Mirage heard Bloodhound invoke the Allfather and get ready to attack, while Caustic decided to remain exactly where he was. It was all very interesting beside the fact that Mirage couldn’t warn them about his current position. They were busy fighting the other two components of the team.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The third one flipped Mirage around and slammed him against the nearest wall, making him gasp. Before he could extract his gun, a knife pressed against his neck and Octane’s helmet filled his vision.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I told that fucking robot it was a decoy, he didn’t believe me, but I knew,” Octane hissed, a bit amused, a bit pissed. The blade of his butterfly knife cut the side of Mirage’s neck. Blood started running down. He needed to do something, but he couldn’t reach his guns behind his back like this. But if he managed to make Octane loosen the grip even for a second…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Mirage knew it would be obviously useless to even try to kick him in the legs. Duh. So he clenched his fist, slowly, letting the blade cut another stipe to his neck. The blood running down was warm and slick, but it seemed to catch Octane’s attention for a fraction of second, and that was when Mirage shook him violently away and brought his hand to the other wrist, brushing against the holographic clock. Five decoys jumped out, mimicking his every movement. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The look in Octane’s eyes behind the goggles was priceless. He didn't react in time, and, while he was busy shooting two decoys, the real Mirage jumped on him, brining him down. He sat on his hips and wrapped his hands around Octane’s throat, tightening slowly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He leaned closer to the helmet so that Octane could hear him even above the loud shooting around them. “You know, pretty boy, I really hoped we could be doing this in other circumstances.” Mirage couldn’t help a grin watching Octane’s amusement even while he was gasping against Mirage’s hands. He could feel his pulse, fast and irregular, and it was exhilarating. Octane tried to reach out to grab one of the two guns that fell when they rolled down, but Mirage kicked then away with his boot, pressing his body down on Octane’s. It would take only a few more seconds before he’d become a box.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit, this is— so fucking hot,” Octane groaned in frustration. That made Mirage’s eyes widen because <em>shit</em>, he wasn’t the only one thinking so, apparently. Octane was squirming underneath him, uselessly trying to slip away and making their body only rub more together. He was trying to unsaddle Mirage using the mechanic strength of his legs, but he was too weak and breathless for that. The lack of oxygen was doing its job, Mirage knew it. Octane’s eyes slowly became unfocused but they somehow stayed fix on Mirage while his hands squeezed the life out of him, finally. Octane’s body disappeared under him, replaced by a cold box. He couldn’t wait for that night to arrive.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They won the game thanks to Caustic and his damned camping habits that came in handy for once. That gave him yet another reason to call for a celebration, because winning two games in a row wasn’t something that happened everyday. He went looking for the other Legends to inform them about the party he intended to throw in the Common Room that night, then searched for Silva.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva wasn’t inside, and a curious looking person with strawberry red hair informed Elliott that Octane had gone to the shooting range on the ground because he had to work off the adrenaline the fight had left in him. Elliott didn't show them the smug smirk that provoked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He retired in his room and made a couple of call to people that had to return him a favor or two, and once the organization for the <em>party</em> had been taken care of, he dialed his mother’s number. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a rather sad call. He missed her just as much as she missed him, but she could count on the moments of blankness her mind caused to take a breath of relief, while he couldn’t. It was a cruel thought, an unfair one, but Elliott was selfish like that, and he couldn’t help it. He spent the rest of the day alone doing nothing instead of practicing or take a walk outside. It’s just that he couldn’t seem to…fully relax. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Call it anticipation, call it a thin thread of anxiety or self doubt, but the thought of Silva and what they seemed to agree on doing later bugged him. Elliott was aware that the more he thought about this the bigger it got in his head, but he couldn’t help it. Since he joined the Apex games he’d never really had the chance to indulge in his own…<em>needs</em>. Not because he didn't want to, but simply because hanging out of the drop ship with someone was basically impossible because of the daily poor availability of free time. Dating was out of the question. And until now, none of the other Legends had caught his attention enough to want to bring them in his bed. <em>Until freaking now, yeah. </em>Silva’s attitude had him instantly interest, and since the other seemed to reciprocate this kind of interest, Elliott was in. For real. Was he nervous about it? A lot. Did he fear it would make thing awkward? Hell yes. But he wouldn’t step back, no. He had nothing to lose.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Dammit, can you stop overthinking like this for once? It can’t be worse than anything you’ve already lived through. </em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That thought allowed him to relax a little and when he stared at himself in the several mirrors covering his walls, Elliott felt his confidence boost. Just a tiny touch of alcohol and he would be <em>fine</em>. A little push it’s all it would take.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The Common Room was already crowded. Everyone was there, serving themselves from the trays and pouring colorful drinks in colorful glasses. Bloodhound approached him when they spotted him and Elliott could swear they were smirking behind the mask. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What is it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nothing, bróðir. I simply did not expect another party so soon,” they mused, leaning against the wall with a foot against it. “How did you convince Hammond to pay for it this time?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh! I didn’t. I called someone to bring two cases of the best booze you can find around and made them pass right under Hammod’s nose,” Elliott explained, walking to the counter that sported a rather vast range of liquors. He poured half a glass for himself and half for Hound and handed it to them, then nodded in their direction. “Didn't exe…expc…I didn't think you would come, though, Hound. I’m glad you did!” He wrapped a arm around their shoulder and clinked their glasses together, taking a first sip.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bloodhoud hummed, drinking slowly s their eyes scanned the room. Then Silva entered the room, Elliott instantly turned to look at him and Bloodhound let out a choked sound of repressed laughter. “The fuck you laughing at?” Elliott muttered, throwing his head back and swallowing the entire glass down. If he was blushing, he could blame that, at least. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey amigos! The life of the party has just arrived!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva was wearing long sleeves black crop top and obscenely tight shorts that had Elliott’s brain buzz off for moment or two. Thankfully, Bloodhoud’s elbow in his side snapped him out of it and he patted Silva’s shoulder. “Glad you made it!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva’s eyes were glued to his. He was wearing a mask, a different one, shiny black and studded, and Elliott wondered why he wore if even outside of the arena. Silva pulled away from the half assed embrace and headed to the bottles behind. He grabbed a whole bottle of rum. He huffed a chuckle when he saw Elliott’s raised eyebrows.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, did you think a glass would be enough for me?” He mockingly asked pointing at the glass Elliott was holding. He tapped the black discs on his abs and clicked his tongue. “Do you know what are these?” He seemed to ask it to nobody in particular and didn't even wait for their reply before going on with his explanations. “They’re filters, compadres, and what do filters do?” This time he paused, so Elliott answered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They filter?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Bingo! They filter. Which means that whatever shit I put in my body will expire sooner than for the rest of you. Booze, weed, stim, everything. If I want to party, amigo, I need the whole bottle,” Silva laughed, finally unzipping the mask behind his head. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott didn't know what he’d expected to see. Really, he hadn’t expected anything in particular, and yet, seeing Silva’s whole face for the first time, he gaped. He was…hot, yes. But at the same time, the scar covering the lower half of his face wasn’t exactly what Elliott would have called “hot”. It started from the right corner of Silva’s mouth and continued down his chin in a patched pattern of lighter skin. It was thick and impossible to ignore, and surrounded by another four or five long darker scars that covered Silva’s chin and part of his cheek and jawline. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva noticed the stare because of course he did. Elliott knew it had been rude and he wished he hadn’t, but it was impossible to ignore, honestly. Even Bloodhound had their head cocked to the side in surprise and curiosity. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, this?” Silva interrupted the awkward silence, pointing at his face with a grin. “A souvenir a not so friendly dog gave me when I was…uh, thirteen? Maybe fourteen? I was being a little too friendly, solo un poquito, and it got angry and bit me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Damn, man,” Elliott commented, horrified at the image of a kid being bitten by an aggressive dog. “Must have hurt a lot.” He was already at his third glass, or fourth. It went down so easily and yet he wasn’t feeling it yet.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh hell yeah, it did, but it makes a great story to tell,” Silva laughed, winking at him. Elliott held his gaze because come the fuck on, man up! Silva took his first swing of the night and Elliott’s eyes fell on his Adam’s apple as it bobbed up and down, gulp after gulp. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bloodhound let out a short sigh and patted Elliott’s shoulder, excusing themself for a moment and disappearing in the hallway. At the same time, someone in the Common Room put at good use the stereos, and music filled the background of already on going conversations. Silva pulled back from the bottle and stared long at Elliott, looking like he was studying him or try to read his mind, and <em>oh mama, let’s hope not.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott felt jittery and the thought of it is humiliating, because damn it, he got his fair share of experiences behind his back and he was no high schooler flirting for the first time. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, pointing at the bottle still tightly held in Silva’s hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Gimme a shot of that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva eyed him cautiously, shaking his head. His scarred lips ticked up in a cocky grin. “Didn't you hear what I said, amigo? I don’t share.” He took another sip, this time staring directly in the eye.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott sensed the challenge in the air and couldn’t help but accept it. “Hey, pretty boy. I wasn’t asking,” he muttered firmly, holding that green, unreadable gaze. He took another step and now they’re standing in front of each other, leaned on their sides against the wall, divided by nothing more than a bottle of rum. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva waited some more before finally pressing the bottle against Elliott’s chest. He had drunk <em>half </em>of it alone. Elliott wasn’t an expert on filters and stuff of the sort, but he was pretty sure that even those couldn’t work fast enough for half bottle of well aged rum. When Elliott grabbed the bottle and brought it to his lips, Silva wrapped his fingers around the purposefully loose informal tie he’d wore for the party, almost making him choke. He tugged it gently a couple of times, looking up at Elliott —yes, he was the tall one, eh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’ll have to get me more of that if you finish it, compadre.” His breath smelled like rum and his voice was low and steady and it went directly to Elliott’s mind, making his cheek flame. Or maybe it was the alcohol drunk on an empty stomach finally having the desired effect. Either way, he liked how close Silva was, and he had no intention to change that. He drank some more swigs, feeling his throat burn with every swallow, and loving it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’ll get you everything you want, kid,” Elliott replied calmly, passing him the bottle again, giving him <em>the look </em> again, because it was now or never. Nobody was paying them any attention, and Elliott feared that if he let this chance slip, he’d regret it for the rest of his stay here. In addition, Silva was…<em>fucking hell</em>, he was keeping the bottle finish against his lower lip and Elliott couldn’t be reading the signs wrong, could he?! </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva rested against the wall as he clung to the bottle until nothing but a few drops. He wiped his mouth with the sleeve and then moved the hand that was on Elliott’s chest up to his neck. Elliott flinches like it burned and he pulled away, looking around to check if somebody had noticed them. There were Legends napping on the couch, other sleeping, other eating and drinking, a few ones even dancing clumsily in the middle of the room with members of the staff. Phew.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s wrong, compadre?” Silva asked him, tracing a line from Elliott’s neck nape to the lower back.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Not here,” Elliott hissed, quickly bring to face him. Fuck, <em>now </em> he was feeling every tears of rum he’d chugged down in the last half hour getting to his head. Silva didn't look much better, but surely better than someone that had just emptied almost an entire bottle on their own.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“My room then,” Silva quickly advised, walking to the mouth of the hallway. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You start going, I’ll come soon,” Elliott assured, feeling somewhat paranoid about the possibilities of the others growing suspicious of them if they left together, or the chance to be followed. Silva grinned, running his fingers though Elliott’s curls as he started walking away with a shake of his head. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One minute passed. Two minutes passed. Elliott was biting his nails with the urge of just going, but he forced himself to hold on for another couple of minutes, and only when he really couldn’t hesitate longer, he excused himself from the party, blaming the alcohol for sudden headache. And then he ran to the room number nine. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The door was unlocked. Elliott knocked anyway, but since no reply came, he entered. Three steps into the chaos of Silva’s room and he was shoved against the wall. “You took <em>so long</em>,” Silva muttered as his hands cupped the side of Elliott’s cheeks. Elliott didn’t have a chance to back off —and why would he?!— that Silva’s mouth was on his. It was a kiss rough and full of teeth, definitely what he’d expected Silva to be, and Elliott was happy to give back just as much as he took, licking those scarred lips before taking them between his teeth and pulling, eliciting a hiss from the other. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Well, I’m here now,” Elliott teased, letting his hands roam over Silva’s arms and shoulder, massaging, probing a body he didn't know yet. Octavio bit his tongue and Elliott groaned, fisting a hand in his hair and giving them a tug.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Was that revenge because I made you wait?” He asked, already dizzy breathless from just a kiss. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva chuckled against his lips, a sound so sweet, and he nodded, pushing himself against Elliott’s body. “Yes.” He then dipped his head in the crook of Elliott’s neck, and started sucking random spots on his neck that tingled and made Elliott shiver, and it felt amazing. He used the grip on those green hair to prompt him not to stop, and Silva got the message. His lips started licking here and there, but it was the sudden suck on a specific spot under Elliott’s ear that made a heavy pant come out of him. “Feels good?” Silva muttered, moving his hands down Elliott’s body, exploring him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah baby, very good,” Elliott praised, moving his free hand to grip Silva’s tiny waist in a tight hold. Both of them were breathing fast, blame the alcohol, blame the fact that they were touch starved —or at least Elliott was— or blame that they’d been eye-fucking each other for days now. It didn't really matter, because now there they were against one another, rolling their hips with need.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Let me suck you off,” Silva then whispered against Elliott’s shoulder, his fingers already undoing the buttons of his pants. Elliott’s brain took a couple moments to elaborate on the request, and when it did, he bit his lip, a sudden wave of heat filling him up. Shit, Silva wanted to suck his dick. <em>This is happening for real.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without letting him think this further, the other dropped to his quaking knees and pulled Elliott’s pants and boxers down. Elliott would have liked to take his time with him, but he really was running short of patience. They’d already waited too long for this. Silva wrapped his fingers around his dick, giving him a few stokes while his eyes looked up at Elliott. Shit, that was a picture he wasn’t going to forget easily. Elliott moved his hand to caress Silva’s cheek, but the other took his thumb between his lips instead, and Elliott’s dick gave a twitch. “Shit, you’re so hot,” Elliott admitted in a whisper, watching how his thumb disappeared in that warm mouth. It made him smile when it accidentally bumped into a crooked canine and Silva shot him a glare. Elliott used the grip of his thumb to guide Silva’s mouth to the tip of his dick. One moment he had scarred lips around his finger, the next, all the knew was that a hot tongue was swallowing his dick down. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Fu-fuck Silva…<em>nghh</em>! So good, so fucking…good,” Elliott moaned, resting his head against the wall and letting his eyes fall shut. Silva’s tongue rubbed the underside of his shaft and caused a powerful shiver to run down his spine, and when the other started moving his head back and forth, trying to take more of Elliott’s dick in his throat, he couldn’t help an accidental twitch of his hips that made Silva choke, an followed by an embarrassingly loud moan. That wasn’t his. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Shit baby, you like that?” Elliot asked, breathless and horny like he hadn’t in a while. Silva’s eyes were wet with unshed tears of effort but he nodded weakly, using his hands to support himself against Elliott’s thighs. Elliott couldn’t believe this was really happening, and yet he was enjoying every single dirty moment of it. “Good…to know.” He gently cupped the back of Silva’s head with his hand and guided him closer. His dick gave a twitch when he felt Silva’s throat clench around him, and he loosened his grip a little to give him the chance to breath before pulling him again. Silva took him quite easily, swallowing around the head and licking away the precum eagerly. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott was barely able to contain his moans and words of appreciation by then, watching with hungry eyes the way his dick disappeared into that warm cavern. It really was a sight, and <em>this </em>was a picture he <em>couldn’t</em>, ever, forget easily. There was saliva and white precum running out from the corner of Silva’s lips and he didn't seem to mind, happy to suck Elliott off the best he could. Elliott saw him sneak a hand inside his shorts and he couldn’t blame him. It was time to hurry things up a little, just like Silva liked it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Stay right there,” Elliott muttered low, moving his hips back a little and taking himself in his palm. Silva’s eyes were teary and blurry and he leaned forward when Elliott pulled backs if he wanted to suck him again, more, and shit, that was sexy. “I say don’t move, pretty boy,” Elliott warned with a gentle but convincing tug at his green hair. Silva looked at the hand currently stroking his dick and then raised his gaze to meet Elliott’s. He had no right to look this good like that, panting on his knees at his mercy, but he did. “I-I’m gonna cum s-soon,” Elliott informed, more warning than offering an option. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“C’mon hermoso, give it to me,” Silva spurred, licking his lips and opening his mouth in front of the head of Elliott’s cock, but he had other plans in mind. “Give it to me, Witt,” Silva insisted. Elliott let out a soft, choked moan when he squeezed himself at the same time of a tight, powerful stroke, and he jerked Silva’s hair back roughly, making him raise his gaze again. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Elliott came, it took his breath off. He spurted all over Silva’s face, staining the piercing on his eyebrow, his nose, most of his cheek, and some drops had landed on his tongue as well. Elliott moaned brokenly when the other licked his lips and swallowed what little he’d been allowed to get, looking satisfied with himself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">On the other hand, he was embarrassed that it was over so quickly. He came fast as a virgin would, how…humiliating. He patted Silva’s head once, helping him stand up again and not complaining once bit when the other pulled him for a filthy, way too wet to be nice, kiss. “You alright?” He asked, tracing his fingers down Silva’s throat. Moments ago his dick had been there.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Of course! That was good, wasn’t it? You looked like you enjoyed it, amigo,” Silva grinned against his mouth and pressed himself closer to Elliott, who was just beginning to catch his breath after the almost out-of-body experience he’d just had. The rum was still making everything sound more muffled than it probably was, and whenever he turned his head too fast the entire room spoon like a top, but he was fine for all the rest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva was shamelessly rutting against his thigh, letting out short and soft adorable pants against Elliott’s shoulder. “Here, let me,” he mumbled against his ear, feeling him shiver in his arms. Neither of them had bothered undressing more than strictly necessary, and when Elliott’s hands slid down over that deliciously flat stomach and slipped into Silva’s boxers, he had to repress a moan of his own. “God, you’re so fucking <em>wet</em>. Shit Silva, that’s so hot,” he couldn’t help but think out loud, not wasting another second to dip two fingers into the tight heat of Silva’s pussy. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other wailed and shook, and Elliott had to hold him up by the hip or he would have fallen, and it didn't take a genius to understand that Silva was already close. Elliott was fingering him at a rather slow pace and Silva fucked himself on his hand, rutting and breathing with difficulty as his climax approached. “Come on kid, one for me, I wanna feel you come on my fingers.” That and a deep thrust of the digits inside of him made it. Silva’s moan was hoarse and needy and he shook violently against Elliott’s chest, his eyes squinting shut for a few moments. Elliott guessed all that booze did actually have its effect on him as well. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Silva came back, he grinned madly. “That was <em>amazing</em>,” he said, wrapping one arm around Elliott’s neck and playfully biting his cheekbone. “We should totally do it again, amigo. Like, really soon.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can’t say no to that,” Elliott agreed, quickly wiping himself with a tissue and tucking himself back in his pants. “But let’s keep it to ourselves. Don’t want the others to…know it, you know?” He slurred slightly, straightening again and moving to the door. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva had jumped on the bed and he was laughing, probably drunker than Elliott was himself. “Whatever you say, hermoso, whatever you say.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was enough for Elliott. He winked at the chucking boy on the bed and left the room, staggering to his own not far away. When he laid in bed, content, sated, and finally relaxed, he was glad he’d decided to take his chances. Whatever would come out of this would be worth it.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the comfartre joke is a reference to <a href="https://twitter.com/osamatographe/status/1292208348625096710?s=21">this fantastic fanart</a> </p><p>this chapter ended up being 8.4k….how did this happen lol i’m having a lot of fun with it though and it can only get better</p><p>hope you enjoyed reading! and don’t forget to subscribe if you don’t wanna miss the updates </p><p>u can find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/hybristophilica">twitter</a> &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Like a wave of invisible violence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Only with the years passing, with his stunts getting more dangerous by the day, with the increasing number of people watching him put his life on the line, Ajay realized there was more under that. It wasn’t only that Octavio was reckless, it wasn’t only about the adrenaline, despite what he kept repeating to himself and the whole world."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>—17 years old—</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Ajay looked into his eyes for several seconds. He gave a short nod, nervous and thrilled, then passed her the syringe and the tiny bottle of testosterone. She still couldn’t believe that, after all the needles he’d handled in the last years, Tavi had asked her to do this.“</em>It must be you,” <em>he’d said, and she was touched, so she’d accepted. And now they were in Tavi’s bedroom, with him leaning against the desk with his ass and Ajay sitting on the chair right beside him. </em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Ready, chica? ‘Cause I definitely am.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He was right, he’d waited long enough for this moment to arrive, and she was procrastinating because of her own emotional state. It’s just— he’d wanted this so bad, and now the moment had finally arrived, and she was looking forward to it almost more than him. Almost. Tavi’s legs were bouncing on the rug and he continued to shift his gaze from her face to the tip of the needle.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>She prepared the syringe, drawing the liquid into the tube, then flicked her nail against the side. She looked up at him once again, smiling like he was. Tavi’s side grin was charming in a way, or maybe it was just the happiness of the moment to make him glow like that. Ajay squeezed the flesh of his thigh with one hand, then started pushing the needle in it with the other. Tavi’s eyes were fixed on it and his fingers were twitching, but if that was nervousness or adrenaline, she couldn’t tell. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>When there wasn’t anything left to inject, Ajay pulled the syringe away. “There. Done.” A few beats of silence passed while she rubbed the pierced spot with disinfectant, then Octavio threw his arms around her neck, laughing. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Gracias! Gracias!”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>—</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Can you hear me, Olympus?!” Tavi shouted into the microphone, hand cupped around his ear while the crowd shouted back at him. “Good!” He turned around, adjusting the strap of the electric guitar around the shoulder and grinned at Ajay above the mask. “Chica! I’m ready when you are!”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Ajay grinned, spinning the drumsticks above her head and making them clank against one another. “And one! And two! And three!” </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Their music filled the pub like a wave of invisible violence, causing glasses to tremble and walls to send the sound back with a repulsed echo. Tavi’s scratchy voice was barely audible over the powerful beats of her drums and the high picket guitar chords, but it was fine like that. They didn't seek perfection, on the other hand, their punk rock was a messy, heartfelt Fuck you to all that perfection everyone in Olympus seemed to surround themselves with. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Not Ajay and Octavio, not anymore. This band project had been his idea not more than a year ago, but only because Ajay had asked him to try playing with her some time before. And at first, he’d refused. When he’d appeared on the threshold of her mansion with a strawberry red guitar, one day, she’d instantly understood. They started writing songs, he took care of the music, she took care of the lyrics, and they were a mess with zero musical knowledge, but </em>it didn't matter<em>, because they were having fun and doing that for themselves, for each other, and nobody else. Tavi had even asked her to record an album, but the project fell when he started lacking real interest in keeping it up. Too much work. It was okay anyway to Ajay. Playing live every now and then like this was fine.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>After finishing the last song, Ajay walked outside to take a breath of fresh air. Octavio followed right after, pulling the mask down as he slid a cigarette between his lips. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Great show, eh?”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Ajay shrugged, jumping to sit on the wrecked bench on the other side of the alley. “It was okay, I guess. We did better than last time indeed.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“That’s cause I wasn’t high this time, chica,” Octavio laughed. She didn’t.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“So, you goin’ home with the girl from the second row or what?” Ajay asked instead, one raised teasing eyebrow. “You been watching her tha whole night.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Tavi laughed and scratched the back of his head, messing the black mohawk up. “I freakin’ hope so. Time to finish this-” he pointed at the cigarette, “and I’m going back to see if she actually waited for me.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Ajay leaned the elbow on her knee. “Should I leave the window open for you or nah? I don’t wanna wake up to ya throwing rocks at it.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Octavio thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah, I’ll be fine. You go to sleep, hermana. If I’m lucky I’ll stay at hers, if not, I’m pretty sure I can scrounge a bunk somewhere.” He winked, then threw the cigarette butt away. “Time to go back! Buenas noches Ajay,” Tavi said, disappearing again in the back door of the pub, followed by a trail of white smoke. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>A couple of hours later, Ajay was woken up by her phone ringing. So much for sleeping. She blindly answered the call, still half asleep. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Miss Che? Could you come here?” The voice of a man asked. Ajay rubbed her eyes, pulling the phone back to check the number of the caller, but it wasn’t not memorized.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Who’s this?”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I’m Rift, Miss Che. You and your friend played for us tonight.” Ah, right. “I’m calling because I think your friend might be in trouble.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That <em>woke her up. “What, why? Where is he?”</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“I’ve seen him leave the pub with a woman, but not much after she ran back inside and your friend was right behind her. I thought they were fighting, but another guy actually showed up, seeming— angry at your friend. I only saw them argue before they left in a rush. Not in a peaceful way, I fear.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>Shit. “Thank you, I’m comin’ right away.” Ajay ended the call and jumped out of bed, throwing on the first clothes she found. </em>Dammit, Tavi.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>She found him thanks to the shouts, shouts coming from one dark alley in the neighborhood of the pub. When Ajay arrived, she found four guys taking turns kicking Octavio as he laid on the concrete, while they yelled and laughed. She didn't let the panic of seeing him bleeding on the ground get the best of her. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Hey! Jerks!” She grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it in their direction, managing to get their attention. “Get tha fuck away from him!”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>One of them turned around, but the other three didn't stop hitting Octavio like a dented can. “Or what? What are you gonna do, baby, fight us?”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Octavio coughed, gesturing at her and shaking his head. “Ajay, go away!” </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>“Ajay?” Another dude asked, stopping his fist mid-air, holding Octavio’s head with the other one and staring at her more intensely then. “As in Che? Ajay Che?”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>She swallowed, stepping forward with the wave of confidence the question arose in her. “Tha’s right. Now let him go.” She sounded a lo more arrogant than she felt, but it was good and seemed to work, because the guy stepped away from Octavio, letting him fall face-first on the concrete. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>He whispered something to the other guys, who all turned to look at her, as if wondering if she really was who she said. In the end, Octavio had to bear another kick in the stomach before the group snorted and abandoned the alley, shoving her shoulder as they did so. Ajay breathed out sharply, unclenching her fist, and walked to the barely breathing body in front of her. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Octavio’s nose was bleeding profusely, probably broken, and when Ajay tried to make him sit up, the shout he let out alarmed her. Broken ribs too. “Tavi, what happened?” </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Octavio leaned back against the wall with her help, closing his eyes. He started laughing, spitting blood and shaking his head. “The girl’s boyfriend found us while— while her hand was in my pants,” he chuckled, then choked on his breath and rested his head against the bricks. Ajay frowned, wiping the blood away from his mouth and nose. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>She touched his chest here and there, checking for sore spots and eventual broken bones. Turned out there where no actual broken ribs, but those guys’ boots had kicked rather hard into Octavio’s sides and stomach, and he’d be covered in bruises for the next few weeks, at least. </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Tavi coughed again, opening his eyes, teary and tired. “How did you find me?”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Ajay sat down, latching her arms around her own knees. She stared hard at him, feeling a mix of anger towards his stupidity and relief to find him safe, relatively. “Rift called me. He saw ya and that guy argue and called me to come check on ya.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Octavio nodded as if that made total sense, and then closed his eyes, seeming at peace with himself while there were a thousands different emotions going inside of her, instead. His lips were chapped and dirty with dried blood when he smiled, unconsciously angling his head towards her. “Knew I could count on you, chica.”</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>—</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Who would have thought that they’d meet again like that. It had been months since the last time Ajay had seen him, and he hadn’t changed all that much, honestly. Same bags under his eyes, same scars, same devil-may-care smirk. She had been…a little rude, perhaps, that first night. Tavi had looked so happy to see her, genuinely, and she’d given him the cold shoulder. She would do it again anyway, but there was still that thin sting of guilt making her think of his sad expression every now and then. Guess she’d live with that, from now on, because she had no intention to let him closer any soon.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After finding out the truth about her parents’ business, Ajay had gone through a hard time. Octavio had been there for her just like she’d expected him to, like she’d been there for him when Mister Silva made him sob at night. Like it had always been between them, they were each other’s shoulder, and their friendship had only strengthened after that one last blow she received, if that was even possible. That was the good between them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The bad, instead, had always been there, but Ajay hadn’t realized until it was too late. Octavio’s reckless streak had always been present, but she’d initially accepted it as part of who he was, and that was right, in some way. And at first, it was also his sick way to vent out his frustrations, a way to cope with the loneliness that he had all the right to feel. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Only with the years passing, with his stunts getting more dangerous by the day, with the increasing number of people watching him put his life on the line, Ajay realized there was more under that. It wasn’t only that Octavio was reckless, it wasn’t only about the adrenaline, despite what he kept repeating to himself and the whole world. Ajay had come to learn that Tavi truly believed that nobody out there cared about him as a person, not as Octane, not as the stuntman, but as <em>Octavio</em>. He’d been raised like that and he’d grown to accept it. Only that it wasn’t true, because she cared, and a fuckin’ lot too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She hoped so, but wasn’t so sure about it, that if he knew, if he understood how much she loved him, maybe he wouldn’t jump down buildings and bridges, maybe he would stop using drugs to escape his own feelings, maybe he wouldn’t put her through the agony of watching him execute always more risky stunts without letting her talk him out of it. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But despite everything she’d endured it, because she was a good friend, because that’s what they were since the start, because she repeated to herself that if that was what made him happy, and if he really wasn’t trying to kill himself, then it would be fine to her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was until the gauntlet accident. Well, “accident”. She was on a helicopter, back from a rescue mission, and the screen above her head live streamed the whole thing. The jump pads scattered on the ramps, Octavio’s jumps, his frantic run, the grenade rolling on his legs, the explosion that blasted him at the finish. The blood, the paramedics, Octavio’s victorious hand raised in the air while he was brought away. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He called her then, while she was already on her way to Olympus, where he’d been hospitalized. She hated it, she hated <em>him</em> for making her come back after she’d sworn she wouldn’t. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio’s legs were in an awful condition, and Ajay offered to fix him herself, but he refused. He wanted prosthetics, steel legs that would allow him not to worry about safety anymore. And Ajay gave them to him, ignoring all the ethics that had brought her here, she gave them to him as a goodbye gift, because this one last stunt made her realize there would never be a real finish line for Octavio, that he was never going to stop, not for her or anyone else. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She hated herself for thinking things could change with time, for believing in him when he’d never even tried to deceive her into thinking he would. Ajay had always loved him, part of her always would, but she couldn’t bear the concern and constant anxiety being around him implied no longer. She needed to part from him to find herself again, to cut that bond they’d taken so many years to sew.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ajay left Olympus without saying goodbye. She blocked his number, deleted him from her life, and started detoxifying from him. It was painful, very much so at first, and so hard. But this was the best choice for her, she knew. If one day their roads would cross again, she wouldn’t let him get under her skin again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And now there they were, sleeping under the same rooftop, you could say, only a few rooms away from one another. Octavio’d tried to talk to her more than once, following her around the drop ship when Ajay would only answer to his attempts at conversation and provocations with silence, but she hadn’t given up on her conviction, nor had any intention to. <em>He </em>would, after a while. He lacked her strength.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">One night, several weeks after Octavio’s arrival, Ajay was on the top of the dropship, with the elbows leaned on the ledge of the balcony that opened its sight on the dry valley underneath. It was a warm night, with no wind and a bunch of far away stars. She’d come here to be alone and enjoy the silence, but it wasn’t her night. The hatch opened behind her, and she knew she had company. “Ajay?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She got lucky, at least. Elliott was the lesser evil. She liked him, even. He was a little bit too chatty at times, and annoyingly outgoing, but she’d found a good friend in him, when they started participating in the games together. He was trustworthy, and they’d clicked easily. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey, Ell.” Ajay turned to look at him over her shoulder, nodding in greeting. “Whatcha doin’ out here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott pulled himself up and rubbed the dirt off his knees, reaching her at the balcony. “Nothing much, just needed a break from the mess downstairs. Renee is freaking out about the press conference, y’know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ah, right,” Ajay sighed, rubbing her eyes. The press conference, she’d almost forgotten. A new Legend would be joining them next week, according to rumors, so Hammond had organized interviews and conferences for the rest of them. “I’ll check on her later,” Ajay muttered, turning around to face Elliott and resting her arms on the steel bar behind her back. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Nah, I think she’ll be fine. Makoa offered to make her tea, and I left them half dozing off on the couch, so I think she’ll be fine,” Elliott reassured with a small smile, leaning against the balcony, looking down at the Hammond buildings in the plain. “How are you, instead? You’ve been pretty quiet lately. ’S everything alright?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ajay eyed him sideways, unable to smile a little herself. Something told her Elliott didn't actually need a breath of fresh air, did he. “I’m all good,” she half lied, turning around again to join him in the appreciation of the view. “Just been havin’ a lot on ma mind, y’know.” She kept it vague, because there was no need to tell him what was really going on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott caught it anyway, the half lie, but didn't pry. He never pried when he sensed Ajay wasn’t in the mood for talking, and that was only one of the great things about him. He nodded with a thoughtful expression that soon after evolved into one of glee as his gloved hand pointed at something off the dropship, and when Ajay followed its direction, she saw him, Octavio.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What’s he doin’ out there at this hour?” She asked, not really expecting a real answer. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott chuckled and shrugged, following with his eyes Octavio, who ran towards the entrance of the race track wearing nothing more than a long sleeved shirt and shorts. “Running, I guess. But don’t worry, he’s not going to stay out there very late.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And why’s that?” Ajay asked. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“ ‘Cause we’re gonna f—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He froze, horrified. Two seconds passed, but they were enough to make Elliott’s brain short-circuit and give himself away with a micro-expression of dread while Ajay realized what was going on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…Tell me you’re <em>not</em> screwin’ him,'' she hissed, more affected by the revelation than she would have expected. Elliott was mortified but so was she, because this feeling clenching her stomach was pure pettiness and selfishness. Ajay knew she didn't have any right to tell either of them how to live their lives, she had no right to ask Elliott to stop seeing Octavio. But yes, she <em>was </em>pissed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was pissed because when she came here she started a new life that revolved only about herself and on the bigger goal she’d set. A new life with new people that didn't know her past, new people like Elliott she’d started to get closer to, and to trust. Now, with Octavio in the way, everything had been contaminated by his exploding personality more than she expected, she realized, and Ajay feared that she would slowly start to lose herself like it happened in the past. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m sorry I didn't tell you before. And that he didn't tell you, ‘cause I asked him not to. I didn't want others to know,” Elliott mumbled, chewing his lower lip nervously as if he expected Ajay to start scolding him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Instead, she shook her head. “ ’S none of my business anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott frowned, raising his finger. “But…But he told me you’re old friends, so I thought—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We were friends, yeah. So what? He’s a grown adult and so are ya. What ya do has nothing to do with me. Also everyone can see how ya look at him, Ell.” She rolled her eyes, watching the lights of the  windows of the buildings below start to go out one by one. “Nobody would be surprised, ya know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott was silent for some time, and Ajay took the chance to escape the series of questions that would undoubtedly follow if she let him open the mouth again. “Think Imma catch some sleep now. See ya tomorrow, Ell.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Oh, alright,” he replied. “…Sleep tight, Ajay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As if she would manage to.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">—</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott remained on the balcony for another while after Ajay left. He wished he knew what was going on with her and Silva, honestly. Elliot and he had been around one another quite a bit in the last weeks, but it’s not like they talked that much. Sure, they drank and chatted at night, sometimes even trained together, but most times they were busy kissing the life out of each other and fucking like two desperate teenagers, and yes, it was embarrassing, but also kind of relieving for Elliott, because having someone as lighthearted as Silva around was a nice change of pace. Unlike the rest of the Legends, Silva was actually <em>funny</em>, he didn't take shit too seriously, and was always up for some adventure. Elliott didn't have to hold back his lame jokes with the fearing of being laughed <em>at, </em>and not <em>with</em>. It was silly, alright, but also harmless. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Or so he thought until that night. He would have never thought he could actually hurt Ajay, but he’d managed to, hadn’t he? When he fucked up and gave him and Silva away because he couldn’t keep his tongue at bay, and the expression she had— yeah, it hurt her, somehow. Elliott ignored the reason, though. He knew Silva and Ajay were long-standing friends of some sort and that they grew up together, ‘cause Silva told him. Ajay, on the other hand, had never once mentioned him, not even a hint. Like Renee had said, there was some bad blood in there, and although Elliott didn’t want to stick his nose where it didn't belong, he had to admit he was curious.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva and Elliott liked to <em>entertain </em>each other in between games and in the loneliness of their rooms at night, and until that moment Elliott thought it was amazing to have someone to share that with. But this night served to open his eyes to the reality that there was someone else that could possibly be affected by their choice. Ajay was Silva’s friend, and she was Elliott’s friend too, dammit, and upsetting her upset <em>him</em>. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But at the same time, he knew she was right. She had nothing to do with this. Also, Elliott knew he was selfish, and it would take a lot more than just a little concern on his side to give up on Silva’s kisses and hands. Bastard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he finally decided to crawl back into the hatch and reach the Common room, it was late. He wondered if Silva was already back or if he would reach him later in his room, but right now Elliott just wanted to check on Renee. He found her on the couch, still asleep against Makoa, so he decided to lay a thin blanket on the both of them before tiptoeing to the hallway. Before he could, though, the lights switching on in the other hallway, the one that led to the bathroom, caught his attention. And three seconds later there was Silva, with a towel wrapped around his neck and another around his hips.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he spotted Elliott he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows and pointing back at the way he just came from, then retreated in the shower room. Now, for all the sour mood Elliot could be in, who was he to refuse such an open invitation? </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Dammit, Silva.” Making sure the doors that separated them from the Common room were well closed and locked, he followed him. Yeah, if there was one thing Elliott Witt was, it was selfish. And he didn't feel any guilt, any at all, when he kneeled between Silva’s legs in the bathroom stall and proceeded to spend the next hour there with him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next morning, he woke up because of the repeating beep of the alarm, before he actually remembered the meeting the others had scheduled with Hammond’s heads to discuss the arrival of the new Legends. Elliott got ready in a rush, throwing on yesterday’s dirty clothes and stumbling in the middle of the hallway as he put on a boot while jumping on the other foot.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Hammond’s heads liked to hold meetings in one of the buildings on the ground, and Elliott would have had some trouble finding which one exactly if it wasn’t for Xenthya, bless her soul. The doors of the conference room had already been shut and a male miked voice resounded though the hallways. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott opened the door as slowly and silently as he could, slipped inside, tiptoeing to the free seat next to Renee’s at the round table at the center and sat down like he’d always been there.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“You’re late,” she whispered without taking her eyes off the man speaking. “You forgot, didn't you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Totally,” Elliott admitted, sitting straight to give the impression he was actually listening. “Fill me in on the revel- rilev- important stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“They announced the date of the new Legend's arrival to the public, but she’s going to join us in the dropship this afternoon first. Starting from tomorrow, some interviews and some press conferences, but that’s it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Alright, that sounded cool. New Legend coming, which was nice, interviews, also nice, and press conference, Elliott’s fave. “Sounds like an interesting week indeed.” In front of her silence, he elbowed Renee’s side gently. “Y’know you don’t have to take part to the interviews if you don’t want to, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Renee always felt like she needed to blend in, to do what was expected of her for fear she might get ditched if she didn’t. But the cool thing about working for Hammond in the Apex Games was that, beside the matches themselves, the Legends’ contracts weren’t all that strict. Participating actively in the games and accepting an interview every now and then was the least their contracts envisioned. The rest was up to them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I know. But Williams said there’s the risk my ranking will fall if I don’t accept to talk to people in public more often,” she said low, turning to look at him. Elliot played with his goatee, pensive.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“That’s kinda true, I guess. But Renee, you have like— one of the highest ranking among us. The audience loves you, and it’s going to take a little more than skipping an interview or two to change that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Renee stared at him for a while, her expression blank and calm, but a thin smile soon brightened it up. “…You’re right, I guess. Thanks, Elliott.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He patted her shoulder, shrugging. “Anytime. Now let’s hear what that schmuck has to say.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Four hours later, they’re all reunited in the Common room. A various and abundant buffet has been set up by the staff, with cakes and sandwiches and lots of drinks. The stereos played relaxing lounge music and the lights were warm, everything was ready. It reminded Elliott of the day Silva had arrived, some months ago. Damn, had it already been so long? Incredible really. And now another little lamb was about to jump into the pen of Hammond shepherd. Elliott wondered what reason the lucky one had, this time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He lunged at the quiche as soon as the lids were lifted, stuffing his mouth and promptly receiving a glare from Renee and a sonorous laugh from Makoa, then he sat on the couch with a plate full of food in the lap. Just when he was about to give another bite, someone shushed the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott looked up, noticing the others walking to the entrance of the room, where- oh! The new Legend. Elliott didn't remember her name, but he remembered her face from the hundreds of promotional posters stuck around everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hello everyone!” The girl greeted with a chirp and a liquid <em>r </em>that made Elliott grin. “I’m Natalie! Friends call me Nat!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hi Nat,” he half bowed in front of her. “Welcome to the most badass crew of the galaxy!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ignore him, please,” Caustic intruded, pulling Elliott behind by the back of his shirt. Of course! “If I may be honest, I’ve read through your file accurately, Mrs. Paquette, and I find your studies about electro-engineering research in different environments quite advanced, for someone your age.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott gaped at the girl, Natalie. She? An electro-engineer? But…“But that’s so amazing! You must tell me everything about it! You might not know, but I know a thing or two about engineering, so if you want—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Enough, Witt,” Caustic cut him off, gently pushed Natalie to the side, and started to talk to her in a lower tone. The other Legends seemed disappointed not to get to talk to her too, but Natalie was interested in whatever hogwash Caustic was telling her, so Elliott let it go. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When he turned around, though, he found Silva leaning over his shoulder, as if he’d waited for Elliott to notice him before he spoke. “Is it true, compadre? You know engineering and all that brain stuff? It's that how you make the tricks happen, isn’t it?” He asked excitedly, even with the mask covering half of his face Elliott could sense the grin behind it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something like that, yeah. Why? You know something about it?” He teased, flapping his hand in the air. “It’s nothing much, actually. Pretty boring too if you don’t—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Can you show me?” Silva asked abruptly, chugging down the drink in his hand and discarding the glass on a table nearby. “How do you make it?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For a moment, Elliott was taken aback and he couldn’t tell if Silva was making fun of him, was just curious, or he was horny and just looking for an excuse to leave with him. But his expression wasn’t a teasing one, and he wasn’t pawing at Elliott’s shoulder like he would if he wanted to get in his pants. It was almost as if he was actually interested in the mechanics behind the holograms, which was a first. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Didn't you say you were going to figure it out on your own, mh?” Elliott joked then, testing the waters in search of the trap.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Silva laughed and tilted his head, eyes full of amusement but not malice. “Yeah I did, amigo, but I don’t think I actually can. You can just show me now, if you want. Or another day! Another day too, no problemo.” Without giving Elliott the chance to reply, he started to walk away, not insisting, not pushing, not laughing anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And it was in that moment that Elliott understood Silva was serious about this. Before he thought twice about it, he reached out and grabbed Silva’s wrist, sighing deeply. “No I— don’t mind showing you, actually. I have most of the stuff in my room, wanna come take a look around?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva’s eyes widened like he’d just won the lottery. Or maybe not, since he didn’t need that, the rich little shit. But anyway, there was an amazement so clear in those green eyes of his that Elliott wondered if he knew what he’d actually asked for. It’s not like physics and engineering were <em>that </em>exciting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They retreated in Elliott’s bedroom and closed the door, and Elliott realized two things: one, he’d forgotten to tidy up around; two, it was the first time Silva had stepped inside. Every time they fucked, it had happened either in Silva’s room, in the showers, or even in the arena, occasionally and less frequently. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva nosed around shamelessly, raising clothes from chairs and grabbing frames from shelves, putting them back all crooked and in the wrong order. He didn't stop touching Elliott’s golden action figures until he cleared his throat excessively loudly, and that caught his attention. “Sorry.” He didn't look sorry at all, but he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his shorts and looked around. “So where’s all the stuff? I don’t see anything here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Give me a second, pretty boy,” Elliott grumbled, walking to the wardrobe on the other side of the room and opening its doors as wide as they’d go. Then he stuck his head inside and pulled out a reclinable board. Its legs ticked out once it had reached an horizontal position, creating a working bench. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Woah! Do I have one of those in mine too?!” Silva asked, jumping on the other side of the table to take a peek inside the closet. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott chuckled, bending to grab a heavy box from the bottom of the  wardrobe. “Nah, I had them customize this one because my suit needs regular maintenance.” He took out of the box tools and papers full of graphics and numbers and equations, displaying them on the table.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva sat on the bed right in front of it, his knee hopping up and down. “Come on already, amigo! Show me!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Demanding little thing you are.” Elliott grabbed the holosuit from the drawer where it and its replacements were secured, and he laid it on the desk, flattening it all along it. “Aight, so. See these blue circles? These are sensors of movement, pretty self explanatory. The whole suit is covered in them, but these blue ones are bigger because they also take care of general energy balance and proportions, and if one of them gets damaged the whole system stops functioning,” Elliott tried to explain in simple terms, hoping Silva followed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other gave a tiny nod of his head, focused. “So the sensors make it possible for the holograms to stand on their own and keep them…human-like?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Exactly.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Got it. But how do you actually <em>make</em> holograms?” Silva asked, standing up as quickly as he’d sat. He circled the table, standing beside Elliott as he pointed at one of the schemes. Elliott didn't know how much he was really understanding of his mother’s and his own dysgraphic handwriting, but he appreciated the effort.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s all about light, and transmission and reflection of it. Most holograms need lenses and beam splitters, but my mom and I prefer to use movement sensors too. Like I said, they’re all over the suit, and once I activate it, the holographic film records light at a very high resolution. If you don’t know, light is part of the eleco- eloct- elema- <em>electromagnetic</em> spectrum, and it's made of high-frequency electrical and ma-magnetic waves. The frequency of light determines its color, which is why I needed to install these glowing flashes in the suit to activate before the holograms come out,” Elliott explained, pointing at arrows and numbers on the document below. When he looked at Silva to see if he was following him though, he found him staring. At him, not at the documents. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He still had that look in his eyes, the excited one, only this time it was softer but sharper, really intrigued in what Elliott was saying. Silva wasn’t probably understanding a word of all that, alright, but he was <em>trying</em> to, and Elliott felt touched. “Well, you get the hang of it,” he cut short, looking down at his hands on the papers. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva chuckled, resting with his lower back against the table, and scratched the back of his head. “No amigo, not at all to be honest. But damn, you actually do! How amazing is that?!” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott stared at him, lips parted in silent surprise. “I mean, it’s nothing much really. I bet everyone could—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Witt, can you stop? Believe me, <em>not </em>everyone can understand this stuff, amigo. Waves and light and frequency? Nah, I for sure can’t, but you do, sabeltodo.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sabelwhat?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva laughed, shaking his head, then met Elliott’s gaze. They stayed like that for a while, mindless and lighthearted after the chat, and it was such an unusual thing for the both of them to be so quiet that for one moment Elliott felt awkward. He wanted to say something to break the silence, but no words seemed adequate enough. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Silva must have felt the same, because briefly after he straightened up and walked to the door. Elliott wanted to stop him, for some reason he wanted to stay with him for another bit, just another bit, but Silva had already stepped out. “I’m gonna go train with Xenthya, compadre.” A pause, a playful look. “Don’t wait up for me.” And with that, he was gone. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott pushed the box and the table up into the closet, locking it shut, then fell in bed, staring at the ceiling. People usually found physics explanations and engineering stuff boring, and most wouldn’t even try to understand them. Silva had, for some reason. It had been a while since Elliott let himself go on about those topics, probably since the last time he’d visited his mother, and it had felt good to be taken seriously by someone else as well, for once, to be able to prove that he actually had a brain, and a pretty good one too. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He slipped in his pajamas and jumped in bed, turning the lights off with the vocal command before grabbing his phone. There was a text from Silva. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em>‘Next time I could show you the projects for my next legs, compadre.’ </em>What a dork. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">‘I’d love to. Might even take inspiration for some mechanical legs to give my holograms.’</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott smiled at the screen one more second, then placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. Silva told him not to wait up for him, which meant he wasn’t coming back at all that night, but Elliott found it hard anyway to fall asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i know absolutely nothing about holograms, all the nonsense I threw in here comes from https://science.howstuffworks.com/hologram.htm and i apologize if it makes no sense lolol</p>
<p>anyway! i have a whole page full of headcanons and plot for this fic and im excited for what’s to come hhh </p>
<p>if you enjoyed reading, please consider leaving kudos or comments, i’d really appreciate it, and it helps a lot (a lot!!!) with my motivation!! you can find me on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hybristophilica">tumblr</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/hybristophilica">twitter</a> &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Anger and craving of revenge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Elliott Witt. Son of Evelyn Witt, he liked to play dumb around people and in front of cameras, but Tae Joon knew well what kind of brain hid under that set of brown curls."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>fuck canon, right? really, I decided to ignore 80% of the timeline and 95% of what happens in canon because the writing of this game is inconsistent and doesn’t make sense in the least. also i lost most passion for the game but I still really like the characters, so I believe i’ll keep this story going for a while, but dont expect frequent updates because life is a bitch </p><p>This fic will be nothing but self indulgent and i’m fine with that. if anyone out there will enjoy it too, then cool</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tae Joon’s first day as a new Legend wasn’t anything remarkable. Hammond Robotics threw a small party like it did for every newcomer, and since he wasn’t allowed to take part in the games before the next day, the rest of the evening passed rather slowly, spent alone in his new room. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first thing he needed to take care of was security in there. It was the place he was going to spend most of his free hours in, and it needed to be safe. Deactivated the principal controls of the door, and after making sure there were no bugs in the dresser or under the bed, he proceeded to link the drone to the system through his laptop. The scan of the complete electrical map of the dropship would be ready soon. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>Knock knock!</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">What now. “Who is it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hola amigo! You’re the new guy, right? We’re smoking weed in Che’s room, wanna come?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ow c’mon! It’s good weed, promise!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio Silva. Only child, son of CEOs of Silva Pharmaceuticals, reckless and selfish, expert in dangerous stunts and influencing culture. Tae Joon’s opposite, and a pain already. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I said <em>no</em>. Leave me alone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Your loss, compadre. You’ll find us there, if you change your mind.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not going to happen. Tae Joon wasn’t here to smoke weed and have a good time out of the games. He was here to suck every bit of information about Hammon Robotics he could, and then he would use it against them to burn the company to ashes. Everything else he didn't need for his cause was nothing but a distraction. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After analyzing the map of the electrical system and memorizing the most useful intersections of wires, he saved a copy on the computer before leaving the room with Hack. The main hallway of the dropship was deserted, but several voices came from one room. Ajay Che’s, he assumed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Klyd had offered him a tour of the dropship and the other buildings Hammond put at the Legends’ disposal, Tae Took refused adamantly. He knew the dropship’s layout already, just like he knew every detail of its inhabitants’ lives. He wouldn’t have stepped in the viper’s hole without making sure there was some dirt to uncover in case things went wrong for him. He’d spent weeks, months even, planning his arrival here, studying the staff, the business team, the Legends themselves. He couldn’t afford to underestimate anything, if he wanted to annihilate Hammond Robotics.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tae Joon threw a quick glance in direction of the Common Room’s opening, where only some lounge music came from, and then headed in the opposite direction, head low and hands shoved in the pockets. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He mindlessly caressed the Rubik’s cube at the bottom of the right one, feeling a light veil of adrenaline wrap around his throat and causing his breath to itch. <em>C’mon, it’s just the first step towards the goal, no room for hesitation or second guessing now. Get a move. </em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He reached the control panel at the very end of that floor, a grey console laid flat on a tabletop with several dozens of flashy buttons on it. As soon as he tried to press one, just to try his luck, the screen at the center of the panel displayed a red lock. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>Access denied. </b>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Access denied, uh? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tae Joon extracted Hack from the inner pocket of his jacket, linking it directly to one of the thin openings on the board. It didn't take more than four seconds for it to gain access to the entire network. Tae Joon was focused tapping on the drone here and there to guide him through the walls of security Hammond uselessly tried to defend the system with, expression blank as he studied the green interface. He was too immersed in the job that he didn't hear the steps right behind him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Uhm, hello? New guy, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tae Joon’s head whipped around, heart hammering in his chest and ears. He pretended to tie the lace of his shoe, then stood straight again and with a swift and smooth movement the drone slid back in his pocket. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Mirage, but you can call me Elliott.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Witt?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The one and only.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott Witt. Son of Evelyn Witt, he liked to play dumb around people and in front of cameras, but Tae Joon knew well what kind of brain hid under that set of brown curls.  “What are you doing out here all alone?” Witt pressed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tae Joon shrugged, not deigning him of more than one quick glance. “Exploring the ship.” It wasn’t a lie, technically.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Witt grinned, patting his shoulder. “Want a tour?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“No.” Tae Joon shrugged the hand off and turned around. He couldn’t work with him buzzing around like a fly. He’d have to come back another time, maybe later, in the dead of the night, when he was sure nobody else would find him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Are you going back to Ajay’s room? They’re smoking in there, I came around to take a break,” Witt felt the need to explain, as if it could convince him to keep him company. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tae Joon didn't linger with him though. He left the hallway, retreated in his room and barricaded himself inside once again. He jumped on the bed, taking his clothes off and mindlessly tracing the metallic plates on his chest. He thought back of Mila, of her incredible instinct and determination, and God, he missed her so much all of a sudden. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He took out his phone, not the banner, no, his real phone, and stared at the last picture he had of her. She looked so young in it, her smile so wide and genuine while she mocked him about his broken glasses. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">With a cut off sigh, Tae Joon turned the phone off and closed his eyes. One year ago he would have cried after seeing her face again, even if just in a picture. Today, the pain and the regret had already been replaced by anger, nothing but blinding anger and craving of revenge. It wasn’t much and it sure as hell wasn’t healthy for himself, but it was the only reason he had to go on, to live day by day. Everything else, he had lost. He used to have dreams, a quiet life, nothing extraordinarily big, but he had Mila and they were happy. Now that she’d been ripped away from him, the only thing that motivated him was the need to destroy every single corrupted component inside of Hammond.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The next morning, Tae Joon was particularly nervous on top of the launch platform. The games were just a minor inconvenience in his plan, or so he’d thought. Now, standing above a blue sky with a jetpack on his back…he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t mind shooting, nor fighting, nor he minded some blood on his clothes. He just didn't like heights. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Scared, mate?” Fuse laughed beside him, patting his back a little bit too hard and sending him stumbling forward. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“I’m not <em>scared</em>,” Tae Joon groaned, zipping up the front of his jacket to hide his face. He wasn’t scared. He was nervous. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d been sorted in the same team of said Fuse and a certain Wraith. Walter Fitzroy, an eccentric middle-aged man with a passion for explosives and bombs, and Wraith, named Renee, only that she didn't know it yet. She had been part of one of the many suspicious projects that took place under the wings of protection of Hammond, in the Labs department, it seemed, and from what Tae Joon found out, she volunteered for one of the experiments herself, losing her memory in the process. </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">He’d gotten lucky, being matched with them, and he was right to believe so. Wraith saved his ass from being shot as soon as they landed, while Fuse’s chaotic fight style helped distract all three teams surrounding them. </span> <span class="s1">In the end, it was Tae Joon’s mistakes that had the entire squad kicked out by a single strike coming from right above their heads. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“…My bad,” he muttered, mostly pissed at himself for being unable to keep up with Wraith and Fuse’s abrupt attacks. Despite knowing the map like the inside of his pockets, like he wasn’t even supposed to, actually running through it carrying two guns wasn’t as easy as all the Legends made it look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time he dragged his ass back on the dropship, Tae Joon was exhausted. A quick dinner in the common room, an even quicker shower, and he slipped under the sheets of the bed with a sigh. His thoughts shifted back to Mila, his Mila, and the memory of her tender lips on his forehead made his heart ache in nostalgia. He missed her deeply, and fell asleep with the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not even two hours later, he was awakened suddenly by a loud and repetitive metallic clang coming from the corridor. <em>It’ll pass soon</em>, he told himself, but the sound continued, and Tae Joon couldn’t handle it anymore. He stomped out of the room, frowning and glaring at the walls, until he reached the door the sound was coming from. Witt was also reaching the same door, but with a completely different expression on his face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing here?” He asked Tae Joon, looking at the other end of the hallway as if to control that there wasn’t anyone else around. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What do you think?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Another metallic clunk broke the silence, and Tae Joon hit his fist repeatedly against the door. “Silva! Drop it! People are trying to sleep!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Witt grimaced while Silva’s steps, strangely uneven, reasoned closer, and a few seconds later the door slammed open. “Ola— amigos!” He cheered, raising what was half of his leg in the air. “Did you bring company tonight, amor?” He slurred, eyeing Witt first, then Tae Joon. “I don’t mind, he’s fine. Come take a seat, hermosos!” He jumped on one leg back to the bed, and Witt followed him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We didn't come together, exactly, but you can stay if you want?” Witt asked Tae Joon, and it was only then that he realized what was going on. Silva was drunk and adjusting his legs while he waited for Witt’s visit, and Tae Joon had arrived at the worst moment ever. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not knowing if it was more mortifying to have caught them or to be asked to join them, he turned on his heels and reached the handle of the door. “Just stop making so much noise, dammit.” He left the room with heated cheeks and a pout, and, when he slid in bed again, it wasn’t easy to fall asleep. </span>
</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">——</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Waiting for Elliott was a pain in the ass. Not the good kind, not really. The games that day had been a flop, Ajay still wouldn’t talk to him for more than five minutes, and he had the impression that half of the Legends couldn’t stand him. After dinner, Octavio had ditched their little party, one of the few the staff of the games organized on the ground. He didn't want to be around anyone, especially in one of those nights where his mind ran faster than his legs; he couldn’t keep up with himself, and he hated it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first three shots of rum were to take the edge off and let him exhale that sigh of relief only a forced relax could bring him to, but from the fourth on, the competition with his mind had become his only goal. By the time he’d emptied half bottle, Elliott had messaged him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em>'Most boring party EVER. Are you in your room? Can I come?'</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And what better distraction than the hottest guy alive to take Octavio’s mind off things? He’d instantly replied, and, in the wait, one of his legs’ components fell apart. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Thinking about it with a sober head, he might have been making a little too much noise, considering it was past 2 a.m., but, to his defense, he assumed the ship was empty since everyone was attending the party on the ground. He couldn’t have known that the stick-in-the-ass new guy was already sleeping right beside his room, okay?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When someone knocked at the door, Octavio assumed it was Elliott. And Bingo! Elliott <em>and </em>the stick-in-the-ass new guy were standing there, each one looking hotter than the other. Really, Octavio wouldn’t have minded to have some fun with the both of them, but Mr. Hacker was a lame ass and lame asses liked to sleep early, apparently, and ditched the private party he and Elliott were inviting him at. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That didn't mean that the night wasn’t a success. Elliott, still in a sour mood from the party, went absolutely feral on him. It was the alcohol that made Octavio’s head spin when they fell together in bed, </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">but it was Elliott’s kisses and gasps to take his breath away, his hands to steady him on the mattress as Octavio got lost in pleasure and buzz. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The morning after, Octavio woke up with curly hair tickling on his chest. Elliott had spent the night there, apparently, but Octavio failed to recall anything that happened after the second round. The other was snoring softly, scratching his arm every now and then. The curtains of the window were shut tight, and the thin rays of stars that filtered through them cast a golden shade all over Elliott’s body. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio fought the urge to get up. He needed to pee and to stretch his legs, not to talk about the smell of the sheets, but waking the other now sounded cruel. His breathing was calm and he was laying on Octavio’s chest as if they’d been sleeping together for years, with the intimacy only old date lovers had, and the quietness of trusted friends. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was at that moment that Octavio decided that he <em>really </em>needed to pee. With a sudden movement, he sat up and let Elliott’s head roll away, making him flinch.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“The fuck, Tavi?” He mumbled, still half asleep as he laid on his side and buried the face in the pillow. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sorry amigo, need to move. But you can stay,” Octavio muttered, conflicted and confused. He grabbed his prosthetics from the wall beside the bed, secured them on and started dressing in silence. Light snorts followed soon after. Elliott had fallen asleep again. Without making a sound nor turning back to look at him, Octavio dressed quickly and slipped out of the room.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was still early, early enough for the race track and the arena to be empty. Octavio started from the red line in the left corner of the wide room, and began running circles inside. Once he was warmed up enough, he hopped on the elevator that brought him back to the surface. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The air of the morning was chilly, and it prickled his nose even under the mask. Good, good, a cold morning run was everything he needed to get his head clearer. He touched the steel heels of his legs a couple times, left heel and right heel, left and right, left and right, and when he couldn’t focus on anything but the thin line of the horizon in front of him, he sprinted forward. His arms, secured at his sides, kept his chest warm even when the wind started blowing harder, harsher on his cheeks and neck. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Oh, what a feeling! Nothing, <em>nothing</em>, could compare to this. Octavio’s legs started running on their own, he didn't need to tell them where he was headed, because it didn't matter. He never felt light like he did when he ran, when his hair was disheveled and the muscles of his thighs pulled at the metal stitching him to the knees. It was in moments like this that he truly felt alive. Anything else was secondary and lamer, a blurry imitation of the most inebriating feeling in the world. In all the worlds. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When his banner buzzed in his pocket he came down from the high, breathing hard and slowing down to a fast paced walk. The screen flashed a reminder for the upcoming game, and so he headed back to the dropship. On his way up, the elevator was stopped mid-track by Xenthya, who stepped inside with a frown. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Sup, comadre?” Two harmless words that set hell free.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ugh, <em>please</em>. Hammond disposes the use of yet another arena and <em>I</em> need to set everything ready on <em>my</em> own in less than two weeks! I’m surrounded by incompetent and under-qualified idiots who give me nothing but headaches. Pretend-I’m not-here.” She sounded frustrated, to say the least, and the bags under her eyes signaled him that she’d spent the night, too, working around incompetents.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wait, wait. Did you say new arena?” Octavio caught on then, eyes wide in excitement under the goggles. “Are we going to compete there today?!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Xenthya rubbed her forehead and shook the head strongly. “No! No, okay? Pretend you didn't hear anything from me, dammit. It’s still a work in progress, so do me a favor and try not to talk about it with the others, okay? G’luck today, Speedy.” The elevator’s doors opened to let her out, and Octavio waved at her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Damn, a new arena was in the works? That was veery good news. Kings Canyon was starting to get a little boring for his liking. A change would be good. It always was. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Back in his room, he found the bed empty, but a note was on the nightstand. ‘<em>Thanks for letting me sleep. Went to my room to get ready for the games. See you in the arena, pretty boy :3’</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Right, Elliott. The reason for today’s improvised morning run. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Things with him were going well, very well. A little bit too much, actually. They’d started hanging out at night even before they fucked, just to spend some time together, and in the morning they’d eat together before the games, and in the evening they showered together more times than not. It was nice to have a close friend again. After Ajay left, he hadn’t sought company. He didn't need it. Acquaintances, leeches, fuckboys, fans, it was a constant storm of offers and invites around him, and the shallowness of it all bored him to death. Not that Octavio couldn’t be superficial, if he wanted. One night stands and occasional hookups were his daily bread, but it was mostly to kill the time and the days passing by, one by one, all the same. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This was the first time that Octavio actually put effort into knowing someone more deeply after years. It wasn’t even about the good sex anymore, it was about wanting to be closer to Elliott, in one way or another. He was a precious person, one Octavio would have never expected to find there. There, right where he came to find a certain something, a purpose, a challenge that could motivate him, he’d found <em>someone</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Hey there. Ready to shoot?” Wraith asked him once they were ready to fly down the sky of the Canyon. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Always, comadre.” Focus. Focus. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The countdown started, the tailgate of the dropship opened, and Wraith, Octavio and Bloodhound jumped. The initial looting was quick and rushed because they were surrounded by enemy teams, and even if their equipment was way inappropriate, they engaged in the first fight. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And what a joke of fate to find one of Elliott’s decoys sitting behind a tree, right in front of them. Impressive was the way it shielded the ground from the sun, as its shadow was as thick and consistent as a real person’s. The details were awesome too. The brown curls, shining gold under the sun, the small freckles all around Elliott’s nose, the scars, the curve of his lips, the way the suit fit tight on his body—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Now, Bloodhound knew it was a decoy. Wraith knew too, and so did Octavio. It stood too still to be the real Mirage, too frozen against that tree, and yet…and yet Octavio hated the persistent doubt its presence seeded inside of him. Most of all, he hated looking at those eyes without being seen, he hated the confusion they rose inside of him, a confusion he couldn’t explain and was scared to consider at all. He grabbed a tiny rock from the ground and threw it at the decoy’s head, watching it pop into a billion blue sparks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What are you doing?! Now he knows our position!” Wraith scolded in a harsh whisper, grabbing him by the collar of his suit and dragging him inside of the nearest building. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Yes, it had been a stupid move, but Octavio had had the need to see Elliott’s face disappear completely. “Sorry amiga. Got distracted. Won’t happen again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After they managed to avoid Mirage’s team, they couldn’t find any other until the last round of the ring, when Gibraltar’s dome and storm of rocks wiped them away like leaves.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Wasted game. Wasted time,” Wraith was mumbling on the stretcher when the dropship came back to collect the wounded and the winners. Octavio noted in mind that he had to make it up to her, somehow. It was his fault, and he didn't want to end up on her bad side. He liked her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the showers there was no sign of Elliott. Octavio walked to the new guy, Hyeon, and tapped his shoulder. “Hey amigo, have you see—“ And in no time, his arm was being stretched behind his own back and two strong hands were keeping him firm, bent on himself. “Woah! Easy amigo!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Why do you think that only because you speak to me you can touch me?” Hyeon responded, not letting go. The position was uncomfortable but the situation was so ridiculous that Octavio couldn’t contain his amusement. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“What, are you this scared to drop the soap, compadre?” He laughed, and the other only pressed his hands harder on him, pulling a pained moan out of him. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Okay! Okay, I got it! I won’t do it again!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After another little bit of struggling, Hyeon let him go. “What do you want?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Octavio stretched his arms in the air with a groan, then adjusted the towel around his hips. Maybe Hyeon had been embarrassed to be touched in the showers by another man. Mostly naked. Fair. “Literally just wanted to know if you’d seen Witt around and now that I think about it, that’s…not an information worth my arm,” he joked, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere a little. For some reason, Hyeon was constantly in a bad mood. Annoyed, angry, pissed, uncaring, the man’s face was always crunched in a frown, and every time Octavio happened to be around him, it was a continuous trying not to say the wrong thing because Hyeon would scold him, trying not to miss his shots because Hyeon’s drone’s shock wave would be wasted, trying not to bump into him in the middle of the hallway because Hyeon had some secretive business to do. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Without deigning him of a reply, Hyeon shook his head and left the showers. Octavio followed him soon after, defeated. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">——</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Elliott was being childish indeed. Man, it had been a while since he got a crush. No, that’s bullshit. His last crush had been Ajay right a couple weeks after the start of the Apex games, but neither of them talked about that anymore. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The problem with crushes was that they were annoying, mostly. The butterflies in the stomach, the stuttering -not that it changed much in Elliott’s case- the blushing and the flirting were all things Elliott could tolerate and handle. What he couldn’t handle was the clumsiness that came with a crush and the persistent pull he felt inside of his chest. Annoying, yes. Dammit, he wasn’t fifteen anymore, and sure, his love life had sucked ass for the most part, but there was still young hope in him, a hope he too knew he couldn’t suppress. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">And Octavio <em>was</em> giving him hope. He would meet him anytime Elliott called, he’d flirt back, more or less heavily, he talked to Elliott until late at night, when Anita would order them to lower their voices. They were good together, they had fun together, but Elliott feared for his poor heart. Octavio was still young, and Elliott knew that what they had was nothing but a joke for him, a pleasant addition to the already satisfying experience of the games. And at first, Elliott felt like that too. Drinking together, making fun of Caustic behind his back, fucking all nights like they didn't have to get up early in the morning…it was fun, only that the situation was changing, and Elliott was losing control of himself. He just, with the risk of sounding lame, didn’t want to be heartbroken again for the umpteenth time. This relationship he had with Octavio was supposed to be strictly physical and friendly, a chill comfort from the stress of the fame and the violence of the games, and Elliott had to make sure it would stay that way, one way or another. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>and so the trio is finally reunited and heart problems finally started</p><p>my <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hybristophilica">tumblr</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i have all the intentions of making klyd and xenthya have more appearances because i didn't even intend to create them but it happened and i love them both </p><p>anyway! i hope u enjoyed this and i hope i’ll see u again for the next chapter &lt;3</p><p>you can find me on <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hybristophilica">tumblr</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/hybristophilica">twitter</a> &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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